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APPLE 


f 


EARLE  ASHLEY  WALCOTT 


THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD 


Moon  Ying 


THE 
APPLE  OF  DISCORD 


Bg 
EARLE  ASHLEY  WALCOTT 


Author  of 
Blindfolded 


With  Illustrations  by 
ALICE  BARBER  STEPHENS 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1907 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


OCTOBER 


ROBERT  DRTJMMONn  COMPANY,   PRINTER?,   NI'W  YORK 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  I  AM  PRESENTED  WITH  AN  OVESCOAT  i 

II  THE  HOUSE  OF  BLAZES  14 

III  A  GLIMPSE  OF  SUNSHINE  30 

IV  MACHIAVELLI  IN  BRONZE  42 
V  Miss  KENDRICK'S  PLEASURE  62 

VI  BIG  SAM'S  DIPLOMACY  71 

VII  IN  THE  CURRENT  87 

VIII  A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  CAUSE  96 

IX  PETER  BOLTON  104 

X  A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  117 

XI  TROUBLES  IN  THE  MARKET  135 

XII  THE  LOTTERY  TICKET  147 

XIII  THE  WISDOM  OF  His  ANCESTORS  155 

XIV  BARGAINING  172 
XV  A  RIPPLE  OF  TROUBLE  187 

XVI  LAYING  DOWN  THE  LAW  198 

XVII  BIG  SAM'S  WARNING  212 

XVIII  LITTLE  JOHN  AS  A  MAN  OF  ACTION  227 

XIX  MISCHIEF  AFOOT  240 

XX  ON  THE  SAND-LOTS  250 

XXI  BATTLE  262 

XXII  I  BECOME  A  MAN  OF  BUSINESS  281 


2136785 


CONTENTS— Continued 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII  THE  COMMITTEE  OF  SAFETY  300 

XXIV  THE  JUSTICE  OF  BIG  SAM  320 
XXV    FACING  A  CRISIS  334 

XXVI    ON  THE  PRECIPICE  355 

XXVII    A  CALL  TO  ARMS  367 

XXVIII    WITH  THE  PICK-HANDLE  BRIGADE  374 

XXIX    A  TONGUE  OF  FIRE  383 

XXX    THE  END  OF  THE  FEUD  396 

XXXI    THE  BROKEN  WEB  415 

XXXII    THE  ANSWER  427 

EPILOGUE  433 

POSTSCRIPT  437 


THE  APPLE  OF  DISCORD 


THE  APPLE  OF   DISCORD 

CHAPTER  I 

I  AM   PRESENTED   WITH   AN  OVERCOAT 

Colonel  Wharton  Kendrick  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  stroked  his  red  side-whiskers  reflectively,  and 
looked  across  the  table  with  an  expression  of  embar- 
rassment on  his  round  ruddy  face.  For  the  moment 
his  command  of  words  had  evidently  failed  him. 

As  embarrassment  and  failure  of  language  were 
equally  foreign  to  his  nature,  I  was  confirmed  in  a 
growing  suspicion  that  there  had  been  an  ulterior 
purpose  behind  his  cordial  invitation  to  luncheon. 
The  meal  had  been  a  good  one,  and  he  was  paying 
for  it,  and  so  I  felt  that  I  owed  him  my  moral  sup- 
port. Therefore,  I  returned  such  a  look  of  encour- 
agement as  might  properly  express  the  feelings  of  a 
fledgling  attorney  toward  a  millionaire  who  was  the 
probable  source  of  active  litigation,  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak. 

"See  here,  Hampden,"  he  said  at  last ;  "you  know 
something  about  my  row  with  Peter  Bolton,  don't 
you?" 

"The  Bolton-Kendrick  feud  is  a  part  of  my  very 
I 


2  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

earliest  recollections,"  I  admitted.  "When  I  was  a 
small  boy  I  was  convinced  that  it  was  quite  as  much 
a  part  of  the  institutions  of  the  country  as  the  Fourth 
of  July.  You  may  remember  that  my  father  took 
something  of  an  interest  in  your  affairs." 

"Good  old  Dick  Hampden — the  best  friend  a 
man  ever  had !"  And  there  was  a  note  of  tenderness 
in  his  voice  that  touched  my  heart-strings.  "It  was 
a  sad  loss  when  he  went,  my  boy.  Well,  then  I 
needn't  go  into  the  beginning  of  the  feud,  as  no 
doubt  he  explained  it  all  to  you." 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  have  an  account  of  it 
at  first  hand,"  I  replied.  In  spite  of  my  familiarity 
with  the  quarrels  between  Bolton  and  Kendrick,  I 
had  never  solved  the  mystery  of  the  beginning  of 
the  feud.  Its  origin  was  as  deeply  buried  in  the  haze 
of  historic  doubts  as  the  causes  of  the  Trojan  War. 
I  had  heard  it  assigned  to  a  dozen  different  begin- 
nings, ranging  from  a  boyhood  battle  for  the  posses- 
sion of  a  red  apple  to  a  maturer  rivalry  for  the  hand 
of  the  village  belle,  who  had  finally  bestowed  herself 
on  a  suitor  whose  very  name  was  forgotten.  None 
of  the  explanations  seemed  adequate.  The  first  could 
scarce  account  for  the  depth  of  hatred  that  each  felt 
for  the  other.  As  for  the  last — imagination  refused 
to  picture  Peter  Bolton  in  the  figure  of  a  sighing 
swain ;  the  caricature  was  too  monstrous  for  credit. 
Therefore,  I  spoke  hopefully,  as  one  who  sees  the 
doors  of  mystery  ajar.  But  Wharton  Kendrick 
shrank  from  the  task  of  enlightening  me,  and  with  a 
shake  of  his  head  he  replied : 


PRESENTED  WITH  AN  OVERCOAT   3 

"Well,  there's  no  need  to  go  into  it  all  now.  It 
began  back  in  the  Ohio  village  where  we  were  born 
— long  before  the  days  we  heard  of  California — and 
it'll  end  when  one  of  us  is  carried  out  feet  foremost." 

"I  hope  you're  not  expecting  anything  of  that 
sort,"  I  said. 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  I  am.  I'm  expecting  some- 
thing, and  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  But  what  I 
want  to  know  is  this :  Have  you  any  objections  to 
doing  a  bit  of  secret  service?"  The  manner  in  which 
he  plunged  through  his  sentence,  and  the  air  of  vis- 
ible relief  on  his  face  when  he  had  done,  told  me 
that  this  was  what  he  had  been  leading  toward. 

"Well,  that  depends.  You  know  there  are  some 
things  considered  unprofessional — " 

"Even  in  the  law!"  said  Wharton  Kendrick  with 
a  jovial  laugh.  "Oh,  thunder !  What  would  the  game 
be  if  we  didn't  pretend  to  have  rules?  Well,  I  don't 
think  this  is  anything  that  would  get  you  on  the 
black  books,  though  some  of  you  fellows  are  so  con- 
founded touchy  that  I've  shied  away  from  mention- 
ing it  to  you.  I  want  you  to  keep  an  eye  on  Bolton 
for  a  while,  and  find  out  what  he  is  up  to." 

"That  sounds  as  though  you  wanted  a  private  de- 
tective agency,"  I  said  dubiously,  with  distrust  of 
my  ability  to  fill  the  bill. 

"If  I  had  wanted  one  I  should  have  sent  for  it," 
replied  Wharton  Kendrick  dryly.  "I've  had  enough 
experience  of  them  to  know  that  I  don't  want  them. 
I  want  you  because  I  must  have  some  one  I  can 
trust." 


4  THE    APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

I  murmured  my  thanks  at  this  expression  of  es- 
teem. It  was  the  more  gratifying  as,  like  the  rest  of 
my  father's  old  friends,  he  had  carefully  avoided 
giving  me  his  legal  business,  with  a  wise  but  annoy- 
ing preference  for  having  me  try  my  'prentice  hand 
on  the  litigation  of  strangers.  So  at  this  I  professed 
my  entire  willingness  to  be  of  service. 

"That's  good,"  he  said.  "Now,  I've  had  warning 
from  a  source  I  trust  that  Bolton  is  fixing  up  some 
sort  of  surprise  for  me.  I  want  you  to  find  out  what 
it  is.  Six  months  ago  I  got  the  same  sort  of  hint 
that  came  to  me  this  morning,  and  I  forgot  all  about 
it.  Then  one  day  I  got  a  jolt  that  cost  me  a  cool 
hundred  thousand  dollars  when  I  found  that  Bolton 
had  taken  the  Golden  West  Land  and  Water  Com- 
pany away  from  me.  He  got  hold  of  some  of  the 
stock  that  I  thought  was  in  safe  hands,  and  I  had 
to  pay  four  prices  to  get  it.  I've  a  notion  that  the 
thing  is  more  serious  this  time." 

Something  in  his  voice  suggested  alarming  pos- 
sibilities. 

"Do  you  mean  that  Bolton  is  plotting  against  your 
life?"  ' 

"Oh,  I  don't  say  that.  But,  oh,  thunder!  You 
wouldn't  put  it  beyond  him,  would  you  ?" 

"Not  beyond  his  morals,  perhaps;  but  I  should 
certainly  put  it  beyond  his  courage." 

"Oh,  P.  Bolton  isn't  the  man  to  go  gunning  for 
any  one.  But  he  hasn't  any  scruples  against  getting 
another  man  to  do  it  for  him.  That's  why  he  owns 
the  Miroban  mine." 


PRESENTED  WITH  AN  OVERCOAT   5 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  so  ?    I  never  heard  of  that." 

"I  suppose  not.  You're  too  young  to  remember 
the  murder  of  the  Eddy  boys.  They  had  located  the 
Miroban  mine,  and  one  day  they  struck  it  rich.  Bol- 
ton  put  in  a  claim  that  he  had  bought  it  from  a  prior 
locator,  and  pretty  soon  they  were  all  tangled  up  in 
litigation.  One  night  somebody  poked  a  double-bar- 
reled shot-gun  through  a  window  in  the  Eddy  boys' 
cabin,  and  filled  them  full  of  buckshot.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  excitement  about  it  for  a  while,  but 
nobody  could  find  out  the  man  who  did  the  shooting, 
and  we  were  all  too  busy  in  those  days  to  waste 
much  time  hunting  criminals.  When  the  talk  died 
down,  Bolton  was  found  in  possession  of  the  Mi- 
roban." 

"And  you  think—" 

"I  don't  know  who  pulled  the  trigger,  but  I  know 
well  enough  that  Bolton  pointed  the  gun." 

"Old  Bolton  is  a  more  interesting  character  than 
I  had  supposed,"  I  confessed. 

"You'll  have  a  chance  to  get  better  acquainted 
with  him,"  said  Kendrick,  "but  I  can't  promise  you 
that  he  improves  on  acquaintance."  He  smoothed 
his  ruddy  cheeks,  and  ran  his  fingers  through  his 
side-whiskers,  and  then  continued :  "You'd  better 
not  come  to  see  me  till  you  have  something  import- 
ant to  report.  You'll  find  it  easier  to  get  hold  of 
things  if  the  old  spider  doesn't  know  that  you  are  in 
my  employ.  Send  word  around  to  my  office  when 
you  want  to  see  me.  I  suppose  you'll  want  some 
money.  You  needn't  spare  expense.  I  guess  this  will 


6  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

do  for  a  starter."  And,  reaching  into  his  pocket,  he 
brought  up  a  handful  of  twenties  and  passed  them 
over.  And  in  this  pleasant  way  began  my  active  re- 
lations with  the  famous  feud  that  was  to  shake  San 
Francisco  to  its  foundations. 

Several  days  of  cautious  but  diligent  inquiry  fol- 
lowed before  my  industry  was  rewarded  with  an  in- 
sight into  Peter  Boltori's  purposes.  Then  a  lead  of 
much  promise  opened,  and  I  sent  word  to  my  em- 
ployer that  I  was  prepared  to  make  a  progress  re- 
port. 

"Come  around  to  the  office  to-night — nine-thirty," 
was  the  reply ;  and  prompt  to  the  minute  I  mounted 
the  stairs  of  the  California  Street  building  in  which 
Wharton  Kendrick  kept  his  business  quarters,  and 
knocked  at  his  private  door. 

At  his  brusk  "Come  in,"  I  entered,  and  found  him 
seated  behind  his  wide  desk  busily  running  over  a 
bundle  of  papers.  The  gas-light  fell  on  his  ruddy 
face  and  was  reflected  in  glints  from  his  red  side- 
whiskers  with  which  he  eked  out  the  fullness  of  his 
cheeks.  He  was  indeed  a  handsome  man,  and  car- 
ried his  sixty  years  with  the  ease  of  forty. 

"So  you  have  brought  news,"  he  said,  thrusting 
his  papers  into  a  drawer  and  leaning  back  to  receive 
my  communication.  "Well,  what  is  the  old  fox  up 
to  now?" 

"I  have  the  honor,"  I  returned,  "to  report  that  the 
old  fox  has  turned  reformer." 

"Reformer?"  And  a  puzzled  look  overspread  his 
face.  "Well,  if  he  wants  a  job  in  that  line  he  won't 


PRESENTED  WITH  AN  OVERCOAT   7 

have  to  leave  home  to  get  it.  He  can  spend  the  rest 
of  his  life  reforming  himself  and  not  have  time 
enough  by  half." 

"He  is  not  so  selfish  as  all  that.  His  zeal  has 
reached  out  to  embrace  the  regeneration  of  the  whole 
human  race — or  at  least  the  part  of  it  that  inhabits 
San  Francisco." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?  I  may  be  thick-headed,  but 
I  don't  get  your  meaning." 

"Oh,  it  is  just  as  I  say.  And  to  carry  out  his 
benevolent  purposes  he  has  engaged  the  services  of 
the  Council  of  Nine — or  at  least  has  entered  into 
active  cooperation  with  it." 

"The  Council  of  Nine!  I  never  heard  of  it." 
Wharton  Kendrick  looked  at  me  in  amazement. 

"Well,  to  confess  the  truth,  I  never  heard  of  it 
myself  until  to-day.  However,  you  are  likely  to  hear 
more  of  it  later.  It  has  a  valiant  recruit  in  Bolton." 

"But  what  is  it  ?  What  is  it  trying  to  do  ?" 

"So  far  as  I  can  find  out,  it  is  the  head-center  of 
the  local  organization  of  the  International  Reds.  It 
is  made  up  of  anarchists,  socialists,  communists,  and 
the  discontented  of  all  sorts.  I'll  admit  that  I  don't 
understand  fully  the  distinctions  between  these  ele- 
ments, and  they  are  so  mixed  up  here  that  you  can't 
tell  one  from  another." 

"That's  a  promising  combination,"  laughed  Whar- 
ton Kendrick ;  and  then  a  thoughtful  look  followed 
his  laughter,  as  he  added :  "But  what  does  P.  Bolton 
think  he  can  get  out  of  that  crowd  ?" 

"A  liberal  education — or  at  least  an  education  in 


8  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

liberality.  He  has  given  a  handsome  contribution  to 
their  funds — " 

"What!"  ejaculated  Kendrick,  starting  forward 
in  astonishment.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  that  he 
has  given  them  money  ?" 

"I  have  the  authority  of  a  good  witness — to  wit, 
a  man  who  saw  the  money  paid." 

"Whew !  That's  pretty  hard  to  swallow.  What  is 
the  man's  name  ?" 

"Clark— Jonas  Clark." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Why,  he's  a  shining  light  in  the  Carpenters' 
Union.  He's  a  decent  chap  who  is  a  little  carried 
away  by  the  eloquence  of  the  agitators,  but  he  is  all 
right.  He  has  been  a  messenger  back  and  forth  be- 
tween Bolton  and  some  members  of  the  Council,  but 
he  had  the  fault  of  being  too  scrupulous,  and  Bolton 
gave  him  the  sack.  So  now  he  is  employee  number 
one  of  our  detective  bureau." 

"Hm-m !  And  maybe  you  can  give  a  guess  why 
P.  Bolton  is  putting  up  his  good  money  for  that 
crazy  crowd?  You  are  not  trying  to  tell  me  it's  a 
case  of  pure  philanthropy?" 

"That  is  what  he  wants  them  to  believe.  He  told 
Clark  that  before  he  gave  any  money  he  must  be 
satisfied  that  the  aims  and  methods  of  the  Council 
were  for  the  benefit  of  the  people." 

"Oh,  thunder!  To  think  of  P.  Bolton  playing  a 
game  like  that !  Well,  did  they  satisfy  him  ?" 

"Clark  took  him  any  quantity  of  documents.  They 
fed  him  first  with  the  brotherhood-of-man  and  the 


PRESENTED  WITH  AN  OVERCOAT  9 

one-for-all-and-all-for-one  course  of  lectures.  He 
thought  there  was  too  much  milk-and-water  about 
that,  so  they  gradually  worked  up  to  the  dynamiting 
of  royal  oppressors  and  the  extinction  of  capitalistic 
robbers.  At  this  he  gave  up  some  good  coin — five 
hundred  dollars,  as  near  as  I  can  learn — paid  in  per- 
son at  midnight  to  three  members  of  the  Council  of 
Nine." 

Kendrick  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  medi- 
tatively stroked  his  red  side-whiskers  once  more, 
while  the  thoughtful  wrinkles  chased  each  other 
about  his  eyes. 

"That  begins  to  look  like  business,"  he  said  at  last. 
"I'm  sure  I  could  put  a  name  to  the  capitalistic  rob- 
ber he  would  like  to  see  extinguished.  Still,  I  don't 
see  what  he  is  driving  at.  Have  you  got  any  light 
on  his  plans  ?" 

"No.  So  far  as  I  can  find  out,  he  has  made  no 
suggestions.  He  has  only  approved  their  propa- 
ganda, and  hinted  that  they  might  look  for  more 
money  if  their  course  was  such  as  to  satisfy  him." 

"Then  you  think  their  schemes  worth  looking 
into?" 

"Indeed  I  do.  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet 
Clark  at  their  headquarters,  down  at  the  House  of 
Blazes  to-morrow  night.  He  is  going  to  introduce 
me  to  some  of  the  leaders,  and  I  hope  to  get  a  line 
on  what  they  are  planning." 

"The  House  of  Blazes?  What's  that?" 

"Oh,  it's  a  saloon  down  on  Tar  Flat.  The  social- 
ists and  anarchists  and  a  lot  of  other  'ists'  loaf 


io  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

around  there  and  drink  beer  in  their  hours  of  ease, 
and  I  believe  there  is  a  hall  there  where  they  hold 
their  meetings." 

"Umph!  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  your  evening.  But 
don't  get  your  head  smashed."  Wharton  Kendrick 
was  silent  a  little,  and  then  continued  thoughtfully : 
"I  don't  see  what  P.  Bolton  can  expect  to  gain  out 
of  a  lot  of  crack-brained  fanatics  like  that,  but  you 
can  do  as  you  like  about  looking  into  them.  I  sus- 
pect, though,  that  this  is  just  a  blind  for  something 
else.  Just  remember  that  if  you  are  expecting  P. 
Bolton  to  show  himself  in  one  place,  he's  sure  to 
turn  up  in  another.  Now,  is  that  all  your  budget?" 

"One  thing  more.  Bolton  has  a  little  detective 
bureau  of  his  own.  He  has  engaged  Jim  Morgan, 
the  prize-fighter,  with  three  or  four  more  of  the 
same  sort,  and  you're  being  watched.  I've  no  doubt 
there's  a  fellow  out  by  the  door,  waiting  to  follow 
you  home.  So  I'll  take  the  liberty  of  walking  with 
you,  and  engage  a  few  reliable  body-guards  to-mor- 
row." 

Wharton  Kendrick's  mouth  closed  with  a  snap. 

"Not  much — no  body-guards  for  me !  I've  walked 
San  Francisco  for  twenty  years  in  the  face  of  Peter 
Bolton,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be  afraid  of  him  at 
this  day.  Hire  all  the  men  you  want,  but  set  them 
to  looking  after  P.  Bolton — not  after  me." 

"There  are  two  at  his  heels  already." 

"Good;  but  I'm  afraid  a  hundred  wouldn't  be 
enough  to  keep  track  of  the  old  fox,"  laughed  Ken- 
drick. "Well,  it's  time  to  be  getting  home.  Reach 


PRESENTED    WITH    AN    OVERCOAT    11 

me  my  hat  there,  will  you  ?  Make  sure  of  the  door — 
here  goes  the  light."  And  he  followed  me  into  the 
hall  and  turned  the  key  behind  him.  "Now,  there's 
no  need  for  you  to  go  home  with  me,"  he  continued. 

"It's  my  way  as  well  as  yours,"  I  replied,  "and 
unless  you  object  to  my  company,  we'll  go  together." 

We  faced  the  west  wind  that  came  in  gusts  from 
over  Nob  Hill,  with  the  salt  freshness  of  the  ocean 
fog  heavy  upon  it,  turned  north  at  Kearny  Street, 
and  at  Clay  Street  took  the  hill-climbing  cable-car 
that  still  passed  as  one  of  the  city's  novelties.  From 
the  western  end  of  the  line  we  walked  to  the  Ken- 
drick  residence  on  Van  Ness  Avenue. 

"Well,  good  night,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "Sorry  to 
have  brought  you  up  here  for  nothing.  If  you 
should  get  any  light  on  the  Council's  plans  to-mor- 
row night,  come  up  here  next  evening — say  at  eight 
o'clock.  I  may  have  an  idea  of  my  own  by  that 
time."  And  he  closed  the  door. 

As  I  turned  to  descend  the  steps,  my  eye  was  star- 
tled by  a  glimpse  of  movement  among  the  shrubs 
that  decorated  the  Kendrick  lawn.  At  first  I  thought 
it  but  a  branch  tossed  by  the  wind ;  but  an  incautious 
movement  revealed  the  figure  of  a  man  silhouetted 
against  the  faint  illumination  from  a  distant  street- 
lamp,  and  I  felt  a  momentary  gratification  that  my 
precaution  had  been  justified. 

I  descended  the  flight  of  steps  to  the  garden  with 
assumed  unconcern.  Then,  instead  of  following  the 
second  flight  to  the  street,  I  turned,  made  a  sudden 
spring  on  to  the  lawn,  straight  for  the  shrub  behind 


12  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

which  I  had  seen  the  man  hide  himself.  It  was  but 
twenty-five  feet  away,  and  I  reached  it  in  an  instant. 
No  one  was  there.  For  a  moment  I  thought  my 
eyes  must  have  deceived  me.  Then  the  rustle  of  a 
bush  by  the  fence  attracted  my  attention,  and  I  made 
a  dash  for  the  spot.  Before  I  could  reach  it  a  man 
rose  from  behind  the  bush,  vaulted  the  fence,  disap- 
peared for  a  second  of  time,  and  then  could  be  seen 
running  swiftly  down  the  street. 

There  was  an  eight-foot  drop  from  the  garden  to 
the  sidewalk,  but  I  made  the  leap  in  my  turn  with- 
out mishap,  and  was  running  in  the  wake  of  the  fly- 
ing night-hawk  before  I  had  time  to  draw  breath.  I 
soon  gained  upon  him,  and  as  I  came  nearer  I  could 
hear  his  hoarse  gasps,  as  the  unaccustomed  pace  told 
upon  him.  At  the  corner  of  Sacramento  Street  I 
was  near  enough  to  reach  out  and  grasp  him  by  the 
coat. 

He  halted  and  turned. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  growled,  and  then 
struck  at  me  with  sudden  movement.  "Take  that!" 
he  cried,  striking  again  as  I  tried  to  close  with  him, 
and  I  felt  the  shearing  of  cloth  before  a  sharp  blade. 

As  I  staggered  back  from  the  impact  of  the  blow, 
my  foot  caught  on  the  curb,  the  earth  whirled  about, 
the  stone  sidewalk  gave  me  a  thump  alongside  the 
head,  and  I  witnessed  a  private  meteoric  display  of 
unrivaled  splendor. 

I  was  stunned  for  a  minute,  but  collecting  my  wits 
I  scrambled  to  my  feet,  cleared  my  eyes,  and  looked 
for  the  flying  enemy.  He  was  nowhere  to  be  seen, 


PRESENTED  WITH  AN  OVERCOAT  13 

and  no  sound  of  his  footfalls  came  to  my  ear.  Mak- 
ing sure  that  he  had  escaped,  I  turned  to  take  stock 
of  my  injuries.  I  could  find  no  wound,  though  a 
rent  through  my  coat  showed  how  near  I  had  come 
to  the  end  of  all  my  adventures.  A  memorandum- 
book  in  my  inside  pocket  had  stopped  the  blade  with 
which  the  spy  had  struck  at  me.  Then  I  recovered 
from  my  daze  enough  to  become  aware  that  I  was 
holding  an  overcoat  that  was  none  of  mine.  The 
enemy  had  slipped  from  the  garment  to  secure  his 
escape,  and  had  left  it  in  my  hands. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   HOUSE  OF   BLAZES 

With  the  morning's  light  I  looked  carefully  over 
the  captured  overcoat  for  identifying  marks  by 
which  I  might  trace  the  elusive  spy  who  was  so  near 
ending  my  life.  A  hasty  survey  of  the  garment  when 
I  had  reached  my  room  had  revealed  nothing  by 
which  I  might  learn  of  the  owner ;  but  after  a  night's 
sleep  the  detective  instinct  burned  within  me,  and  I 
was  persuaded  that  there  was  something  about  it  to 
differentiate  it  from  other  overcoats,  if  only  I  had 
the  keenness  to  discover  it.  The  garment  was  of 
cheap  material,  and  even  the  maker's  name  had  dis- 
appeared from  it.  There  was  nothing  individual 
about  it,  and  not  even  a  handkerchief  was  to  be 
found  in  its  pockets.  But  when  I  was  about  to  aban- 
don search  once  more,  a  small  inside  pocket  attracted 
my  attention,  and,  diving  within  it,  I  brought  out  a 
square  of  paper,  three  or  four  inches  wide.  The  de- 
tective instinct  within  me  raised  a  shout  of  triumph, 
and  I  opened  the  paper  with  the  conviction  that  it 
would  bear  some  address  that  would  lead  me  to  the 
spy.  The  detective  instinct  became  more  humble  to 
find  that  the  paper  bore  only  a  few  sprawling  char- 
acters that  were  reminiscent  of  a  Chinese  laundry  or 
a  Canton  tea-chest. 

14 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BLAZES  15 

Nevertheless,  it  was  the  only  clue  in  my  posses- 
sion, and  during  the  day  I  made  several  attempts  to 
secure  a  translation  of  the  marks.  But  nightfall 
came  without  success,  and,  reinforced  by  a  good 
dinner,  I  turned  my  steps  south  of  Market  Street  to 
keep  my  appointment  with  Clark. 

"Here's  the  place,"  said  the  policeman,  pointing 
across  Natoma  Street  to  the  corner  building,  from 
which  lights  flashed  and  sounds  of  laughter  and 
drunken  song  floated  out  on  the  night  air.  "We 
call  it  the  House  of  Blazes." 

Even  in  the  semi-darkness  left  by  the  street-lamps 
and  the  lights  that  streamed  from  the  windows,  I 
could  see  that  it  was  a  rambling  two-story  frame 
building,  with  signs  of  premature  age  upon  it.  The 
neighborhood  was  far  from  select,  but  the  House  of 
Blazes  had  characteristics  of  evil  all  its  own.  Above, 
the  small  windows  scowled  dark,  stealthy,  mistrust- 
ful, as  though  they  sought  to  escape  the  eye  of  the 
officer  of  the  law  who  stood  by  my  side.  Below,  the 
broader  windows,  ablaze  with  lamps,  and  the  swing- 
ing half-doors,  through  which  we  could  see  the  feet 
of  men  and  the  occasional  hat  of  a  taller  customer, 
made  a  show  of  openness.  But  it  all  seemed  the 
bravado  of  the  criminal  who  ventures  forth  by  day- 
light, aggressively  assertive  of  his  self-confidence 
and  ready  to  take  to  his  heels  at  the  first  sign  that  he 
is  recognized  by  the  police.  Across  the  windows  and 
on  a  swinging  sign  were  painted  letters  proclaiming 
that  wines  and  liquors  were  to  be  had  withi»  and 
that  H.  Blasius  was  the  owner. 


16  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"It  doesn't  look  to  be  just  the  place  for  a  stranger 
to  show  his  money  in,"  I  said  lightly. 

"It's  about  as  tough  as  they  make  'em,"  growled 
the  policeman.  "There's  a  sight  more  throuble  in 
that  darty  den  than  in  all  the  others  on  the  beat." 

I  thanked  the  policeman  and  bade  him  good  night. 

"Good  night,  sor.  I'm  hoping  you  won't  need 
anything  more  from  me,  sor.  But  just  blow  a  whistle 
if  ye  are  in  chance  of  throuble,  and  I'll  do  my  best 
for  ye." 

And  with  this  cheerful  parting  ringing  in  my 
ears,  I  swung  back  the  doors  and  stepped  into  the 
saloon,  with  the  shadow  of  a  wish  that  the  Council 
of  Nine  had  shown  better  taste  in  headquarters. 

I  found  myself  in  a  long,  low-ceiled  room,  lighted 
by  a  dozen  lamps  that  struggled  to  overpower  the 
tobacco  smoke  that  filled  it.  A  dingy,  painted  bar 
stretched  half-way  down  the  side  of  the  room,  and 
behind  it  a  cracked  mirror  and  a  gaudy  array  of  bot- 
tles served  for  ornament  and  use.  Below  the  bar 
the  room  jutted  back  into  an  L,  where  a  half-dozen 
tables  were  scattered  about.  The  floor  was  littered 
with  sawdust,  trampled  and  soiled  with  many  feet, 
and  mottled  with  many  a  splotch  of  tobacco  juice. 

I  looked  about  for  Clark  and  his  companions. 
Five  or  six  loungers  leaned  against  the  bar,  listening 
to  a  stout,  red-faced  Irishman,  who  was  shaking  his 
fist  vigorously  as  an  accompaniment  to  a  loud  de- 
nunciation of  the  Chinese.  There  was  something 
about  the  man  that  drew  a  second  look,  though  at 
first  glance  I  thought  I  had  recognized  the  symptoms 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BLAZES  17 

of  the  saloof  politician.  He  had  a  bristling  brown 
mustache,  a  shrewd  mouth,  and  a  strong  aggressive 
jaw.  A  little  above  the  medium  height,  with  com- 
pact, heavy  frame,  and  broad  shoulders  that  betok- 
ened strength,  he  was  a  type  of  the  substantial 
workman. 

Beyond  the  oratorical  Irishman  with  his  denuncia- 
tions of  "the  haythen  divils,"  stood  a  man  with  hat 
drawn  down  over  his  eyes,  half  hiding  his  sallow 
face,  and  with  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  who 
glanced  furtively  from  side  to  side,  as  if  in  suspicion 
that  an  enemy  was  about.  Something  faintly  stirred 
in  memory  at  the  sight  of  him,  but  he  shuffled  out  of 
the  saloon  as  I  passed  him,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
was  gone  that  I  connected  him  with  the  spy  whose 
overcoat  lay  in  my  room.  It  was  too  late  to  follow 
him,  for,  before  I  had  recalled  the  vagrant  memory,  a 
short  fat  old  man  waddled  slowly  forward  and  stood 
before  me  with  the  air  of  a  proprietor.  I  divined  that 
I  was  face  to  face  with  H.  Blasius. 

"Vat  vill  you  have,  mine  friend?"  he  inquired 
deliberately. 

I  looked  into  his  fat  pasty  face,  that  gave  back  an 
unhealthy  almost  livid  pallor  to  the  light  that  shone 
upon  it,  and  caught  the  glance  of  his  shifty  bleary 
eyes  under  their  puffy  lids,  and  a  shudder  of  repul- 
sion ran  through  me.  He  was  a  man  of  sixty  or 
more.  His  face,  clean-shaven  except  for  a  mustache 
and  chin-tuft  stained  with  tobacco  juice,  revealed  to 
the  world  every  line  that  a  wicked  life  had  left 
upon  it. 


i8  THE  ^  APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

He  rubbed  his  fat,  moist  hands  on  the  dingy  white 
apron  that  he  wore,  gave  a  tug  at  his  mustache,  and 
waited  for  my  reply. 

"I'm  looking  for  Mr.  Clark,"  I  said. 

"Non — no  soch  man  is  here,"  he  said  suspiciously. 
"I  have  no  one  of  zat  name." 

"I'm  quite  sure  he's  here,"  I  said.  "And  I  must 
see  him." 

The  brow  of  H.  Blasius  darkened,  and  he  looked 
about  slowly  as  though  he  meditated  calling  for  as- 
sistance to  hasten  my  departure. 

"I  don't  vant  ze  trouble,"  he  had  begun,  when  I 
caught  sight  of  my  man  at  a  table  in  the  alcove  at 
the  other  end  of  the  long  room. 

"There  he  is  now,"  I  interrupted.  "There'll  be  no 
trouble,  if  you  don't  make  it  yourself." 

I  was  gone  before  H.  Blasius  had  brought  his  wits 
to  understand  my  meaning,  and  in  a  moment  stood 
beside  a  group  of  men  who  were  sitting  around  the 
farther  table,  beer  glasses  before  them  and  pipes  in 
hand,  listening  to  an  excited  young  man  with  a 
shock  of  long,  tawny  hair,  who  pounded  the  table 
to  strengthen  the  force  of  his  argument.  As  he  came 
to  a  pause,  I  put  my  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  a  tall, 
awkward,  spare-built  man,  with  a  stubby  red  beard, 
who  was  listening  with  effort,  and  evidently  burning 
to  reply  to  the  fervid  young  orator.  It  was  Clark, 
and  he  rose  clumsily  and  shook  hands  with  effusion. 

"I'm  glad  you  come,  Mr.  Hampden;  I'd  about 
give  you  up.  Boys,  this  is  Mr.  Hampden,  the  friend 
I  was  telling  you  about.  Won't  you  take  this  chair, 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BLAZES  19 

sir,  and  spend  the  evening  with  us  ?  We  was  having 
a  little  discussion  about  the  Revolution." 

"The  Revolution!"  I  exclaimed.  "Well,  that's  a 
safe  antiquarian  topic." 

"Oh,"  stammered  Clark,  "it  isn't  the  old  Revolu- 
tion. That's  too  far  back  for  us.  It's  the  coming 
Revolution  we're  talking  about,  when  all  men  are  to 
be  equal  and  share  alike  in  the  good  things  of  the 
earth.  Parks,  here,  thinks  he  knows  all  about  it." 
And  he  waved  his  hand  toward  the  oratorical  young 
man,  who  looked  on  the  world  with  eyes  that  seemed 
to  burn  with  the  light  of  fever. 

Parks  accepted  this  as  an  introduction,  and  ac- 
knowledged it  with  a  nod  as  I  took  a  seat.  I  looked 
at  him  with  keen  interest,  for  I  knew  his  name  as 
one  of  the  nine  leaders  who  had  banded  themselves 
to  right  the  wrongs  of  the  world — with  the  incidental 
assistance  of  Peter  Bolton.  Then  I  looked  about  the 
rest  of  the  group  as  Clark  spoke  their  names,  and 
was  disappointed  to  find  that  a  little  spectacled  Ger- 
man, with  a  bristling  black  beard,  was  the  only  other 
member  of  the  Council  at  the  table. 

"Hope  to  know  you  better,  Mr.  Hampden,"  said 
Parks.  "You  don't  look  to  be  one  of  us." 

"If  it's  a  secret  society,  I  can't  say  that  I've  been 
initiated,"  I  said.  "But  I  hope  you'll  count  me  as 
one  of  you  for  an  occasional  evening.  What  do  you 
happen  to  be,  if  I  may  ask  ?" 

"We,"  said  Parks,  leaning  forward  and  gazing 
fiercely  into  my  eyes,  "we  represent  the  people.  We 
are  from  the  masses." 


20 

"I'm  afraid,  then,"  I  returned  with  a  laugh,  "you'll 
have  to  count  me  as  one  of  you.  I  can't  think  of  any 
way  in  which  my  name  gets  above  the  level  of  the 
lower  ten  million." 

"Sir,"  cried  Parks,  shaking  his  finger  in  my  face 
and  speaking  rapidly  and  excitedly,  "your  speech  be- 
trays you.  You  speak  of  the  lower  ten  million.  They 
are  not  the  lower — no,  by  Heaven!  Your  heart  is 
not  with  the  people.  There  is  nothing  in  you  that 
beats  responsive  to  their  cry  of  distress.  You  may 
be  as  poor  as  the  rest  of  us,  but  your  feelings,  your 
prejudices  are  with  the  despoilers  of  labor,  the  op- 
pressors of  the  lowly.  You  are — " 

What  further  offense  of  aristocracy  he  would  have 
charged  upon  my  head  I  know  not,  for  Clark  reached 
over  and  seized  his  arm. 

"Hold  on !"  he  cried.  "Mr.  Hampden  is  our  guest 
and  a  good  fellow,  so  don't  be  too  hard  on  him.  He 
ain't  educated  yet.  That's  all  the  matter  with  him. 
Give  him  time." 

Parks'  voice  had  been  rising  and  his  utterance  had 
been  growing  more  rapid  and  excited,  but  he  low- 
ered his  tones  once  more. 

"No  offense,  Hampden,  but  my  blood  boils  at  the 
wrongs  inflicted  on  the  downtrodden  slaves  of  the 
wage  system,  and  I  speak  my  mind." 

"Oh,  go  ahead,"  I  said.  "It  doesn't  worry  me. 
Come  to  think  of  it,  Mr.  Parks,  you  don't  seem  to 
be  one  of  the  slaves  of  the  wage  system  yourself. 
You  are,  I  take  it  from  your  words  and  ways,  a  man 
of  education  and  something  more." 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BLAZES  21 

"Sir,"  said  Parks,  striking  the  table  angrily,  "it  is 
my  misfortune." 

"Misfortune?"  I  laughed  inquiringly,  and  the 
others  laughed  in  sympathy. 

"Misfortune — yes,  sir.  I  repeat  it.  I  have  had 
schooling  and  to  spare.  And  if  it  wasn't  for  that,  I 
could  raise  this  city  in  arms  in  a  month." 

My  left-hand  neighbor  was  an  old  man,  a  little 
bent  with  years,  who  had  been  looking  about  the 
table  with  dreamy  eye.  But  at  Parks'  boastful  words 
his  face  lighted  and  he  gave  a  cackling  laugh. 

"Heh,  heh!  He's  right,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
rest  of  us.  "There's  a  crowd  of  thieves  and  robbers 
on  top  and  they  need  a  taking-down.  Parks  is  just 
the  one  to  do  it." 

"You're  wrong,  Merwin,"  said  Parks,  calming 
down  and  looking  at  the  old  man  reflectively.  "I'm 
not  the  one  to  do  it." 

"And  why  not?"  I  asked. 

"It's  the  cursed  education  you  speak  of,"  said 
Parks  fiercely.  "I  am  with  the  masses,  but  not  of 
them.  They  mistrust  me.  Try  as  I  will  I  can't  get 
their  confidence.  I  can't  rouse  them.  They  shout 
for  me,  they  applaud  me,  but  I  can't  stir  them  as 
they  must  be  stirred  before  the  Revolution  can  be- 
gin." 

"What  sort  of  man  do  you  want  ?"  I  asked. 

"He  must  be  a  man  of  the  people,"  said  Parks. 

"By  which  you  mean  a  day-laborer,  I  judge." 

Parks  ignored  the  interruption  and  went  on : 

"He  must  have  eloquence,  courage,  and  he  must 


22  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

understand  men ;  he  must  be  a  statesman  by  nature 
— a  man  of  brains.  But  he  must  be  one  of  the  class 
he  addresses." 

"But  how  are  you  going  to  get  a  man  of  brains 
out  of  that  class?"  I  inquired. 

Parks  struck  the  table  a  sounding  blow  with  his 
fist,  shook  his  head  until  his  shock  of  hair  stood  out 
in  protest,  and  glared  at  me  fiercely. 

"Do  you  mean  to  deny,"  he  began  hotly,  "that 
brains  are  born  to  what  you  call  the  lowest  classes? 
Do  you  deny  the  divine  spark  of  intelligence  to  the 
sons  of  toil  ?  Do  you  say  that  genius  is  sent  to  the 
houses  of  the  rich  and  not  to  those  of  the  poor?  Do 
you  dare  to  say  that  the  son  of  a  banker  may  have 
brains  and  that  the  son  of  a  hodman  may  not  ?" 

"By  no  means,  my  dear  fellow.  I  only  say  if  he 
has  brains  he  won't  be  a  hodman." 

"I've  known  some  pretty  smart  hodmen  in  my 
time,"  said  Clark,  when  he  saw  that  Parks  had  no 
answer  ready.  "I  knew  a  fellow  who  made  four 
hundred  dollars  on  a  contract.  But,"  he  added  re- 
gretfully, "he  lost  it  in  stocks." 

"I'm  afraid  that  instance  doesn't  prove  anything, 
Clark,"  said  Merwin  with  a  thin  laugh.  "He  should 
have  had  brains  enough  to  keep  out  of  stocks." 

"There's  not  many  as  has  that,"  said  a  heavy- 
jowled  Englishman  who  sat  across  the  table.  "I 
wish  I  had  'em  myself." 

"I'm  afraid  you're  right,  Mr.  Hampden,"  said 
Clark.  "We  can't  get  a  leader  from  the  hodman 
class." 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BLAZES  23 

Parks  leaned  forward  and  spoke  quietly  and  im- 
pressively. 

"By  God,  we  must !"  he  said.  "/'//  be  the  brains. 
I'll  find  the  hodman  for  the  mouth,  and  I'll  teach 
him  to  talk  in  a  way  to  set  the  world  on  fire." 

"And  then  what  ?"  I  asked. 

Parks  gave  his  head  a  shake,  and  closed  his  lips 
tightly  as  though  he  feared  that  some  secret  would 
escape  them.  But  the  excitable  little  German  with 
spectacles  and  a  bushy  black  beard  gave  me  an  an- 
swer. 

"Leeberty,  equality,  fraternity!"  he  exclaimed. 

"And  justice,"  added  the  heavy-jowled  English- 
man. 

"These  are  words,  and  very  good  ones,"  I  re- 
turned. "But  what  do  you  mean  by  them?  You 
have  these  things  now,  or  you  don't  have  them — 
just  as  you  happen  to  look  at  it.  It  usually  depends 
on  whether  you  are  successful  or  not.  What  does  all 
this  mean  in  action  ?" 

"For  one  thing,"  said  the  square-jawed  man  seri- 
ously, "it  means  an  end  of  the  sort  of  robbery  by  law 
that  our  friend  Merwin  here  has  suffered.  Now, 
twenty  years  ago  he  was  a  prosperous  contractor. 
He  took -a  lot  of  contracts  from  old  Peter  Bolton 
for  filling  in  some  of  these  water-front  blocks  down 
here.  He  spent  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars, d'ye  know,  and  has  been  lawing  for  it  ever 
since." 

I  turned  and  looked  at  the  face  of  the  old  man 
with  more  interest.  The  case  of  Merwin  against 


24  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Bolton  was  celebrated  in  the  law  books.  It  was  now 
before  the  Supreme  Court  for  the  sixth  time.  In  the 
trial  court  the  juries  had  invariably  found  for  Mer- 
win  with  costs  and  interest,  and  the  appellate  court 
had  as  invariably  sent  the  case  back  for  retrial  on 
errors  committed  by  the  lower  court,  until  it  had 
become  an  impersonal  issue,  a  jest  of  the  law,  a  legal 
ghost,  almost  as  far  removed  from  affairs  of  to-day 
as  "Shelley's  case"  of  unblessed  memory. 

Merwin  looked  up  quickly,  the  dreamy  gaze  no 
longer  clouding  his  eye. 

"I  have  been  kept  out  of  my  property  for  more 
than  twenty  years,  sir,"  he  said.  "It  has  been  a 
great  wrong.  If  you  are  interested  I  should  like  to 
tell  you  about  it." 

"I  am  pretty  well  informed  about  it  already,"  I 
replied.  "You  have  been  much  abused."  The  legal 
jest  had  become  a  living  tragedy,  and  I  felt  a  glow 
of  shame  for  the  futility  of  the  law  that  had  been 
unable  to  do  justice  to  this  man. 

"I  have  been  made  a  poor  man,"  said  Merwin. 
"My  money  was  stolen  from  me  by  Peter  Bolton, 
and  I  tell  you,  sir,  he  is  the  greatest  scoundrel  in 
the  city."  And  in  a  sudden  flash  of  temper  he  struck 
his  fist  upon  the  table. 

"He  ought  to  be  hanged,"  said  the  heavy-jowled 
man. 

"No,  no,"  cried  Parks.  "It  isn't  Bolton  you 
should  blame.  It  is  the  system  that  makes  such 
things  possible.  Bolton  himself  is  but  the  creature  of 
circumstances.  As  I  have  reason  to  know,  his  heart 


THE   HOUSE   OF   BLAZES  25 

is  stirred  by  thoughts  of  better  things  for  humanity. 
Hang  Bolton  and  another  Bolton  would  take  his 
place  to-morrow.  Abolish  the  system,  and  no  man 
could  oppress  his  neighbor." 

"But  how  are  you  going  to  abolish  it?"  I  asked. 
"It  won't  go  for  fine  words." 

"Rouse  the  people,"  cried  Parks  with  passion. 
"The  men  who  are  suffering  from  these  evils  are  the 
strength  of  the  nation.  Those  who  profit  by  the  evils 
are  a  small  minority.  Once  the  people  rise  in  their 
might  the  oppressors  must  fly  or  be  overwhelmed." 

"Here's  to  guns,  and  the  men  who  know  how  to 
use  them !"  said  the  heavy-jowled  man,  draining  his 
glass. 

"Oui,  oui!  Vive  la  barricade!"  croaked  a  harsh 
voice  behind  me,  and  I  turned  to  see  the  pasty  face 
of  H.  Blasius  over  my  shoulder. 

"Shut  up!"  said  Parks.  "We're  not  ready  to  talk 
of  guns  and  barricades." 

At  this  moment  a  sudden  noise  of  scuffle  and 
angry  voices  rose  above  the  sounds  of  conversation 
and  argument  that  filled  the  room.  Some  one  made 
an  abortive  attempt  to  blow  a  police  whistle ;  curses 
and  blows  thrilled  the  air;  and  then  the  swinging 
doors  fell  apart  and  a  man  staggered  in,  holding 
dizzily  to  the  door-post  for  support.  His  hat  was 
crushed,  his  clothing  torn,  and  his  face  covered  with 
blood  that  seemed  to  blind  him. 

As  he  staggered  into  the  saloon,  ten  or  twelve 
young  men,  hardly  more  than  boys,  crowded  after 
him,  striking  at  him  with  fists  and  clubs.  Their 


26  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

faces  were  hard  at  best,  the  lines  written  upon  them 
by  vice  and  crime  giving  plain  warning  to  all  who 
might  read;  but  now  rage  and  hatred  and  lust  for 
blood  lighted  their  eyes  and  flushed  their  cheeks, 
till  they  might  have  stood  as  models  for  escapes 
from  the  infernal  regions. 

"The  cop!"  cried  a  voice;  and  others  took  it  up, 
and  I  recognized  in  the  battered  man  the  policeman 
who  had  shown  me  my  way. 

"He's  the  cop  as  got  Paddy  Rafferty  sent  across 
the  bay  for  ten  years,"  shouted  one  of  the  hoodlums, 
striking  a  blow  that  was  barely  warded  off. 

"Kick  him !"  "Do  him  up !"  "Kill  him !"  came  in 
excited  chorus  from  all  parts  of  the  room  and 
swelled  into  a  roar  that  lost  semblance  of  articulate 
sound. 

Parks  and  I  jumped  to  our  feet  at  the  first  sound 
of  the  riot. 

"Here!  this  won't  do!"  said  Parks  roughly, 
throwing  me  back  in  my  chair.  "Sit  down !  You'll 
get  killed  without  doing  any  good.  I'll  settle  this." 
And  before  I  could  remonstrate  he  was  running 
down  the  room  shouting  wrathfully. 

As  I  got  to  my  feet  again,  I  saw  him  pulling  and 
hauling  at  the  mob,  shouting  lustily  in  the  ears  of 
the  men  as  he  threw  them  aside. 

"Come  on!"  I  cried.  "We  must  take  a  hand  in 
this."  And  at  my  call  Clark  and  the  Englishman  and 
the  little  German  rose  and  followed  in  the  wake  of 
the  young  agitator. 

Parks  worked  his  way  into  the  crowd,  shouting, 


THE    HOUSE   OF    BLAZES  27 

appealing,  using  hands  and  tongue  and  body  at  once 
to  carry  his  point.  He  was  soon  at  the  side  of  the 
policeman,  who  swayed,  half  raised  his  arms,  and 
would  have  fallen  had  Parks'  arm  not  come  to  steady 
him.  The  shouting  hoodlums  paused  at  this  rein- 
forcement. Then  the  leader,  with  a  curse,  struck 
wildly  at  Parks'  face,  and  the  cries  of  rage  rose 
louder  than  before.  At  this  moment,  however,  the 
tall,  broad-shouldered  Irishman,  whom  I  had  no- 
ticed at  my  entrance,  deftly  caught  the  hoodlum  with 
a  blow  on  the  chin  that  sent  him  back  into  the  midst 
of  his  band. 

"Hould  on!"  he  shouted  in  a  resonant  voice. 
"There's  to  be  fair  play  here!  Here's  two  against 
the  crowd  to  save  a  man's  life.  If  there's  any  more 
men  here  let  them  come  next  us." 

"Here  are  four,"  I  cried,  and  our  reinforcement 
shouldered  through  the  throng  to  the  side  of  the  two 
defenders.  The  tumult  stilled  for  a  little,  and  Parks 
seized  the  moment  to  burst  into  indignant  speech. 
He  had  a  high,  keen,  not  unpleasant  voice,  though 
it  thrilled  now  with  anger  and  scorn,  as  he  de- 
nounced the  assault. 

"He's  the  cop  that  got  Paddy  Rafferty  sent  up,  I 
tell  you,"  replied  one  of  the  hoodlums.  "We  said 
we'd  fix  him  and  we  done  it." 

"Well,  you  get  home  now  or  you'll  be  fixed  your- 
self, sonny,"  said  Parks.  "The  cops  will  be  on  you 
in  just  three  minutes  by  the  watch.  Git !" 

"Come  on,  youse!"  said  the  leader  sullenly,  rub- 
bing his  jaw  and  giving  a  spiteful  glance  at  the 


28  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

stout  Irishman.  "We'll  fix  these  tarriers  some  other 
time," — and  the  band  slunk  out  into  the  darkness. 

"That's  the  kind  of  cattle  that  keep  back  the 
cause,"  cried  Parks,  turning  to  the  crowd  with  keen 
eye  for  the  opportunity  for  speech.  And  he  went  on 
with  rude  eloquence  to  expound  the  "rights  of  the 
people,"  which  I  judged  from  his  language  to  be  the 
right  to  work  eight  hours  for  about  eight  dollars  a 
day  and  own  nobody  for  master. 

"Well  said  for  you,  Mr.  Parks!"  said  the  Irish- 
man. "I'm  of  your  way  of  thinkin'.  My  name's 
Kearney — Denis  Kearney — maybe  you've  heard  of 
me." 

"Maybe  I  have,"  said  Parks.  "I  hope  to  hear 
more  of  you,  Mr.  Kearney.  You  came  in  the  nick  of 
time  to-night." 

The  policeman  now  sat  in  a  chair  with  his  face 
washed  and  his  head  bound  up  in  a  cloth,  and  with 
a  sip  of  liquor  was  recovering  strength  and  spirit. 

"There  comes  the  boys,"  he  said.  "They've  heard 
of  the  shindy."  And  in  another  minute  four  police- 
men burst  into  the  place. 

"Cowdery's  gang !"  was  the  brief  comment  of  the 
commanding  officer.  "We'll  have  them  under  lock 
and  key  before  morning." 

H.  Blasius  had  assumed  a  most  pious  expression 
in  a  most  inconspicuous  position  behind  the  bar,  but 
dropped  it  as  the  policemen  left. 

"I've  found  my  hodman,"  whispered  Parks  to  me. 

"Where?" 

"Here.  He  isn't  a  hodman,  but  he's  just  as  good. 


THE    HOUSE    OF    BLAZES  29 

He's  a  drayman  with  a  voice  like  a  fog-horn  and  a 
gift  of  tongue." 

"And  the  brains?" 

"I  carry  them  under  my  hat,"  said  Parks. 

"What's  his  name?" 

"Mr.  Kearney — Mr.  Hampden,"  said  Parks,  rais- 
ing his  voice  and  introducing  me  gravely.  Then,  tak- 
ing the  arm  of  his  new-found  treasure,  Parks  walked 
out  of  the  saloon. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   GLIMPSE   OF   SUNSHINE 

My  watch-hands  pointed  to  eight  o'clock  as  I  was 
ushered  into  Wharton  Kendrick's  library.  It  was  a 
handsome  room,  with  handsome  books  and  hand- 
some solid  leather-covered  furniture  to  match  the 
leather-covered  volumes  that  lined  its  walls,  but  the 
effect  of  dark  walls,  dark  ceilings,  and  dark  bind- 
ings was  a  trifle  gloomy.  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
my  library  should  be  a  light  and  cheerful  room  with 
white  and  gold  trimmings,  and  was  trying  to  decide 
whether  it  should  be  in  the  southwest  or  southeast 
corner  of  my  chateau  in  Spain,  when  my  architec- 
tural studies  were  interrupted  by  the  opening  of  a 
door. 

I  rose  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  my  employer ; 
but  it  was  not  my  employer  who  entered.  Instead 
of  Wharton  Kendrick  I  found  myself  facing  a  young 
woman,  who  halted,  irresolute  and  surprised,  a  pace 
or  two  from  the  door.  Had  it  not  been  for  her  trail- 
ing dress  I  should  at  first  glance  have  thought  her 
but  a  young  girl.  She  was  short  of  stature  and 
slender  of  figure,  and  for  an  instant  I  had  the  idea 
that  the  long  gown  and  the  arrangement  of  the  yel- 
low hair  that  crowned  her  head  were  part  of  a 
masquerade.  But  when  I  looked  in  her  face  I  saw 

3° 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    SUNSHINE          31 

that  she  was  a  woman  grown,  and  her  years  might 
have  reached  twenty. 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  you  were  here,"  said  the 
startled  intruder.  Her  voice  was  even-pitched,  but 
it  had  a  curious  piquant  quality  about  it. 

As  I  hesitated  in  surprise,  she  repeated  her 
thought  in  more  positive  form :  "I  didn't  know  that 
any  one  was  here." 

"I  was  waiting  for  Mr.  Kendrick.  I  was  told  to 
wait  here,"  I  said  apologetically. 

The  gas-light  fell  on  her  face  and  I  saw  that  she 
was  pretty.  Her  head  was  small,  but  well  shaped. 
Her  color  was  that  of  the  delicate  blonde  type,  but 
her  large  eyes  were  of  a  deep  brown. 

"I  don't  believe  you  know  me,  after  all,"  she  said, 
with  a  sudden  mischievous  look. 

I  wanted  to  lie,  but  my  tongue  refused  its  office. 

"You'd  better  not  tell  any  stories,"  she  added. 

"I'm  afraid—"  I  began. 

"Oh,  if  you're  afraid  I  shall  go  away.  I  was  go- 
ing to  read  a  book,  but  it  doesn't  matter." 

"I'm  sure  it  does  matter,''  I  said.  "If  you  go  away 
I  shall  certainly  feel  as  though  I'm  the  one  who 
ought  to  have  gone." 

"I  don't  believe  I  ought  to  stay  here  talking  with 
a  man  who  thinks  he  doesn't  know  me." 

"I'm  a  very  stupid  person,  I  fear,"  I  said. 

"I'm  afraid  some  people  would  say  so,"  she  said 
with  another  mischievous  look,  though  her  face  was 
perfectly  grave;  "but  I  shouldn't  dare." 

"I'm  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  bargain,"  I  said 


32  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

desperately.  "I  should  like  very  much  to  exchange 
names  with  you." 

"Oh,  that  wouldn't  be  a  fair  exchange  at  all,"  said 
the  girl,  shaking  her  head  gravely.  "I  know  Mr. 
Hampden's  name  already.  You  must  offer  a  better 
bargain  than  that." 

"Then  I  must  sue  for  pardon  for  a  treacherous 
memory,"  I  said. 

"It's  a  very  serious  matter,"  said  the  girl,  "but 
I'll  give  you  three  chances  to  guess.  If  that's  not 
enough,  you'll  have  to  ask  uncle." 

"Miss  Laura — Miss  Kendrick!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  did  I  tell  you,  after  all?"  she  cried  in  dis- 
may. "I  said  uncle,  didn't  I?  Now,  you  see,  I'm 
quite  as  stupid  as  other  people." 

"Indeed,  no,"  I  said.  "It's  quite  unpardonable 
that  I  should  have  forgotten." 

"It  ought  to  be,  but  I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  for- 
give you,"  she  said,  dropping  into  a  chair.  "It's  a 
longish  time." 

"How  many  years  has  it  been  ?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  adding  to  your  offenses,"  she 
said,  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  "You  should  cer- 
tainly remember  that  it  was  five  years  ago  this 
summer." 

"Have  you  been  away  so  long?"  I  exclaimed. 

"Oh,  dear!  what  shall  I  do  with  such  a  man? 
First  he  doesn't  remember  me  at  all,  and  then  he 
doesn't  know  how  many  years  I've  been  gone,  and 
then  he  has  no  idea  it  was  so  long." 

"But  you  were  only  a  little  girl  then,"  I  urged. 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    SUNSHINE          33 

"And  not  worth  noticing,  would  you  say  if  you 
dared?  I  used  to  think  I  was  quite  grown  up  in 
those  days." 

"You  didn't — er — quite  give  the  impression." 

"I  see  I  didn't  make  one,"  she  said.  "It's  a  very 
good  lesson  for  one's  vanity,  isn't  it?" 

"And  haven't  you  been  back  in  all  these  years?" 

"  'All  these  years'  sounds  better,"  she  said.  "I  be- 
lieve you  are  learning.  I've  been  back  twice,  if  you 
want  your  question  answered." 

"It  was  kept  quite  a  secret." 

"Oh,  dear,  no !  Everybody  knew  who  cared  any- 
thing about  knowing." 

"And  where  have  you  been,  and  what  doing?" 

"I  was  in  the  East.  First  I  finished  the  seminary." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  I  went  through  college." 

"Indeed?" 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be  so  surprised.  It's  nothing  so 
very  wonderful.  You  didn't  suspect  it  from  my 
looks?" 

"You  certainly  don't  look  like  a  blue-stocking." 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not.  I  never  could  get  enough  into 
my  head  at  one  time  to  be  worthy  of  such  a  title.  I 
believe  a  blue-stocking  is  a  lady  who  has  a  great  deal 
of  learning." 

"Or  at  least,"  I  said,  "is  very  fond  of  showing  it." 

"Oh,  I  think  I  have  her  main  characteristic  then," 
laughed  my  companion.  "If  I  know  anything  I  can't 
rest  till  I  let  somebody  else  know  about  it,  too." 

"I  believe  you're  not  alone.  They  say  that  failing 


34  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

has  descended  to  all  the  daughters  of  Mother  Eve. 
How  long  are  you  to  be  here  ?"  I  asked. 

"Ages,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Miss  Kendrick.  "Six 
months  at  least — maybe  a  year." 

"Then  I  can  hope  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
sometimes?"  I  said. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  appealing  to  a  bust 
of  Homer  on  a  book-shelf.  "Do  you  think  a  man 
with  such  an  uncertain  memory  could  be  trusted  to 
keep  it  in  mind  that  such  a  person  is  here  ?" 

"I  can  vouch  for  him,"  I  said. 

"If  you're  quite  sure — "  she  said. 

"Quite  sure,"  I  repeated  positively. 

"Then  you  can  be  told  that  we  are  at  home  on 
Thursdays.  There — I  hear  uncle  showing  that  comi- 
cal General  Wilson  out  the  door,  so  I'll  be  getting 
my  book  and  go.  It  was  uncle  you  came  to  see,  I 
believe." 

"It  was  Mr.  Kendrick  I  called  for,  but — " 

"You  needn't  go  on,"  interrupted  Miss  Kendrick 
calmly.  "I  suppose  you  think  it  is  only  a  white  one, 
but  I'd  rather  not  hear  it.  Now  if  you  wouldn't 
mind  reaching  that  fourth  book  from  the  end  of  the 
second  row  from  the  top,  you'll  save  me  from  the 
mortification  of  climbing  on  a  chair." 

"This  one?" 

"Yes,  please,"  she  said.  "Thank  you.  Good 
night.  I  really  don't  see  why  I've  talked  so  much." 

"It  was  very  good  of  you,"  I  protested.  "Good 
night." 

The  swish  of  her  skirts  had  hardly  died  away 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    SUNSHINE          35 

when  the  opposite  door — the  one  by  which  I  had  en- 
tered— opened,  and  Wharton  Kendrick  walked  in. 

"Come  this  way,  Wilson.  I  can  put  my  hand  on 
the  book  in  one  second." 

"You  can't  find  your  citation,  Kendrick — it  isn't 
there,"  said  a  short,  stout,  red-faced  man,  with  short 
yellow-gray  side-whiskers,  as  he  bustled  in  the  wake 
of  my  client.  "I  tell  you  you  can't  find  it.  I  know 
the  whole  thing  from  cover  to  cover.  Just  give  me 
the  first  line  of  any  page  and  I'll  repeat  it  right  to 
the  bottom.  I  never  have  to  read  a  thing  more  than 
once  and  I  can  carry  it  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  for 
years  afterward.  Lord  bless  us,  whom  have  we 
here?" 

"Oh,  Hampden,"  said  Kendrick.  "I  didn't  see 
you.  General  Wilson,  allow  me  to  introduce  you." 
And  the  magnate  gave  me  a  kind  word  of  identifica- 
tion. 

"A  lawyer?"  exclaimed  General  Wilson,  his  red 
face  beaming  in  the  frame  of  his  yellow-gray  side- 
whiskers.  "Young  man,  you  are  entering  on  the 
greatest  and  noblest  profession  that  the  human  mind 
has  devised.  You  are  following  the  most  elevated 
and  grandest  principles  that  the  wit  of  mankind  is 
capable  of  evolving  from  the  truths  of  the  ages.  I 
am  a  humble  follower  of  the  profession  myself,  and 
am  proud  to  take  you  by  the  hand." 

He  was  not  proud  enough  to  make  the  most  of 
the  honor,  for  he  gave  but  a  perfunctory  grasp  as 
I  made  some  appropriate  reply. 

"I've  been  in  the  profession  more  decades  than  I 


36  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

like  to  tell  about,"  said  General  Wilson,  with  a  lofty 
wave  of  the  hand,  "but  I've  been  trying  to  get  out 
of  it  for  the  last  five  years.  Perhaps  you  can't  ap- 
preciate that,  Hampden.  Here  you're  trying  to  get 
into  it,  and  I  dare  say  finding  it  devilish  hard ;  but  if 
you're  like  me  you'll  be  trying  to  get  out  of  it  some 
day  and  finding  it  a  damned  sight  harder  yet." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  I  with  pious  mendacity. 

"Here's  the  book,"  said  Kendrick.  But  General 
Wilson  waved  him  aside. 

"It's  wonderful  the  way  business  sticks  to  a  man. 
I've  got  clients  who  just  won't  be  discharged.  I 
thought  a  year  ago  that  I  was  going  to  see  the  last 
of  them,  but  no  sooner  did  I  mention  it  than  they 
were  all  up  in  arms.  'We  can't  spare  you,'  they  said. 
'I. must  take  a  rest,'  I  told  them.  Take  it  at  our  ex- 
pense,' they  said.  And  the  Ohio  Midland  gave  me  a 
special  car  and  paid  the  expenses  of  a  trip  around 
the  country,  and  the  Pennsylvania  Southern  gave  me 
a  twenty-thousand-dollar  check  to  settle  for  a  vaca- 
tion in  Europe,  and  the  Rockland  and  Western  made 
me  the  present  of  a  country  place  where  I  could  go 
and  have  quiet ;  and  after  that  what  could  I  do  ?" 

"They  must  have  been  irresistible,"  I  admitted. 

"Just  so ;  but  even  then  I  tried  to  beg  off.  I  told 
'em  I  had  enough  money.  It  wasn't  money  I  wanted. 
It  was  rest — freedom  from  worry  of  business,  the 
grinding  care  of  law  cases — that  I  was  after.  But 
it  wouldn't  do.  The  Ohio  Midland  said,  'Wilson,  if 
you  can't  be  with  us,  you  mustn't  be  against  us.  We 
know  you'll  be  back  again.  Take  twenty  thousand  a 


A   GLIMPSE   OF    SUNSHINE          37 

year  as  a  retainer  and  count  yourself  as  one  of  us 
yet.  We  shouldn't  be  easy  else.'  But  the  Pennsyl- 
vania Southern  and  the  Rockland  and  Western 
wouldn't  allow  even  that.  They  said,  'Wilson,  we 
can't  do  without  you.  We'll  give  you  all  the  help 
you  want,  but  we  must  have  you  at  the  head.  Name 
your  own  figures.  It  isn't  a  question  of  money. 
You  must  be  our  leading  counsel,  even  if  you  don't 
look  in  on  us  more  than  once  a  quarter.'  I  couldn't 
shake  'em  off,  so,  as  I've  been  saying  to  Kendrick, 
I'm  like  to  die  in  harness,  though  I'd  give  anything 
to  be  free  and  enjoy  life  as  you  young  fellows  do." 

"Just  so,"  said  Kendrick  cheerily;  "but  you're 
way  out  of  the  running  about  that  Mosely  matter. 
Here's  the  book,  and  here's  the  page,  and  it  was  just 
as  I  was  telling  you." 

"Ahem!"  growled  General  Wilson,  turning  red- 
der than  ever  and  taking  the  book  gingerly.  "Oh, 
this  is  the  thing  you  were  talking  about,  is  it? 
Of  course,  of  course,  you  were  quite  right — Mosely, 
of  course.  I  don't  need  to  read  a  word  of  it.  I 
thought  you  were  talking  about  that  Moberly  case. 
Mosely,  of  course.  Well,  I'll  send  you  those  papers 
as  soon  as  I  get  to  New  York.  I  must  be  off  now. 
I've  got  to  see  Governor  Stanford  to-night,  and  he's 
one  of  your  early-to-bed  men ;  so  good  night." 

"You'll  call  in  on  me  within  the  week,  then?"  said 
Kendrick,  taking  him  to  the  door. 

"Oh,  I  shall  see  you  in  two  days.  We  must  press 
this  business  to  an  issue.  They  are  waiting  for  me 
in  New  York,  and  I  can't  waste  much  time  in  small 


38  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

affairs  like  this.  Well,  good  night,  Kendrick,  God 
bless  you!  There  ought  to  be  more  men  like  you. 
Good  night."  And  the  outer  door  closed  behind  him. 

Kendrick  suppressed  a  burst  of  laughter  with  a 
muscular  effort  that  appeared  to  threaten  apoplexy. 

"The  old  humbug!"  he  gasped.  "Hampden, 
you've  seen  the  most  picturesque  liar  that  ever  struck 
the  Golden  Gate.  He  is  a  regular  Roman  candle  of 
romances." 

"Is  he  a  fraud  ?  Is  it  all  a  case  of  imagination  run 
wild?" 

"No,  not  altogether,  I  should  say.  Half  of  it 
seems  to  be  the  truth,  though  which  half  to  believe 
I'm  blest  if  I  can  make  out.  He  brings  good  letters." 

"From  New  York?" 

"Yes ;  and  Chicago,  too.  He  came  out  two  weeks 
ago  to  work  up  a  land  deal.  Represents  a  million 
dollars  in  a  syndicate,  though  I  fancy  he's  not  so  big 
a  part  of  it  as  he  makes  out.  He's  full  of  these  tall 
stories,  though  they  don't  all  of  them  hang  together 
well.  It's  fun  to  listen  to  him,  though.  I  couldn't 
help  taking  him  down  about  that  Mosely  affair.  He 
was  so  cock-sure  of  knowing  everything  that  I 
couldn't  resist  the  temptation." 

"You  did  give  his  vanity  a  singe." 

"It  wasn't  the  politic  thing  to  do  with  a  million- 
dollar  trade  hanging  in  the  balance,  but  I  reckon 
he's  got  enough  of  his  feathers  left  to  carry  him 
through  the  deal." 

Wharton  Kendrick  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and 
has  face  glowed  in  amusement. 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    SUNSHINE          39 

Then  on  a  sudden  he  straightened  up,  all  gravity. 

"Did  you  bring  any  news  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  a  present  of  an  overcoat,"  I  answered. 
And  I  gave  him  the  story  of  the  adventure  of  the 
night. 

"That  was  a  rash  play  of  yours,"  he  said  gravely. 
"Don't  do  it  again.  It  wasn't  necessary." 

"Are  you  certain  that  Bolton  is  the  only  man  who 
has  an  interest  in  setting  a  watch  on  you?"  I  in- 
quired. 

"Why,  what  have  you  found?"  asked  Kendrick, 
a  little  startled. 

"I  haven't  found  anything  but  an  idea — and 
that,"  I  said,  handing  him  a  bit  of  paper. 

"What's  this?"  asked  Kendrick,  putting  on  his 
eye-glasses.  "Your  wash  bill?  China  lottery?  or 
what?" 

"That's  the  thing  that  has  puzzled  me.  You  see, 
there's  quite  a  bit  of  Chinese  writing  on  it." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"I  got  it  out  of  the  overcoat  that  the  fellow  left 
in  my  hands." 

"Ah-ha!"  said  Kendrick.  "And  you  don't  see 
what  one  of  Bolton's  men  would  be  doing  with  a 
Chinese  letter  in  his  pocket  ?" 

"That  was  just  my  idea — in  part,  at  least.  The 
letter  was  a  clue,  anyhow,  and  I  took  it  to  a  Chinese 
firm  I  have  done  some  law  business  for  and  know 
pretty  well.  I  showed  it  to  the  boss  partner.  He 
talks  English  like  a  native,  and  chatters  like  a  mag- 
pie. But  when  he  saw  that  slip  of  paper  he  shut  up 


40  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

like  a  clam,  and  all  I  could  get  out  of  him  was  'No 
sabby.'  You  know  the  look  of  stolid  ignorance  they 
can  put  on  when  there's  anything  they  don't  want  to 
tell." 

"It's  the  most  exasperating  thing  you  can  run 
against." 

"Well,  when  my  merchant  failed  me,  I  went  to 
another  I  knew  slightly,  then  to  an  interpreter,  then 
to  the  boss  of  the  Chinese  guides.  The  same  'No 
sabby,'  and  the  same  stolid  look  everywhere." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  to  the  Chinese  interpreter  at 
the  City  Hall  ?  He's  a  white  man,  and  wouldn't  be 
afraid  to  give  away  secrets." 

"I  tried  him,  but  he  said  it  was  nonsense.  It's  evi- 
dently a  cipher,  though  it's  one  pretty  well  known 
in  Chinatown." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  to  do  then,  Hampden," — and 
he  took  out  his  pencil  and  wrote  a  few  words  on  a 
card.  "Take  this  to  Big  Sam  at  his  Chinatown  of- 
fice to-morrow.  Show  him  the  paper,  and  he'll  give 
you  the  reading.  He  is  under  some  obligations  to 
me,  and  he  can  hardly  refuse." 

"Just  the  thing!  As  Big  Sam  comes  pretty  near, 
being  the  King  of  Chinatown,  he  will  have  no  one 
to  fear." 

"Now  about  the  Council  of  Nine.  What  did  you 
get?" 

"Well,  I  saw  two  members  of  the  Council  and  a 
few  of  their  followers.  I  tried  to  pump  them,  and 
I  dare  say  I  shall  become  as  good  a  convert  to  their 
propaganda  as  old  Bolton  himself.  They  have  some 


A    GLIMPSE    OF  'SUNSHINE          41 

crack-brained  notions  of  an  uprising  of  the  people, 
but  they  don't  appear  to  have  anything  definite  in 
view  at  present."  And  I  gave  my  employer  an  ac- 
count of  my  visit  to  the  House  of  Blazes. 

He  stroked  his  red  whiskers  meditatively,  and 
then  said : 

"Well,  that  doesn't  sound  as  though  they  could 
amount  to  much,  but  as  long  as  P.  Bolton  is  back- 
ing them,  you'd  better  keep  a  close  eye  on  them." 


CHAPTER  IV 

i 

MACHIAVELLI   IN   BRONZE 

Waverly  Place  was  in  the  full  tide  of  business. 
The  little  brown  man  in  his  blue  blouse  and  clatter- 
ing shoes  was  seen  in  his  endless  variety,  chattering-, 
bargaining,  working,  lounging,  moving;  and  the 
short  street,  with  its  American  architecture  half  ori- 
entalized, was  gay  with  colors  and  foul  with  odors. 

Patient  coolies  trotted  past,  bending  between  the 
heavily  laden  baskets  that  swung  upon  the  poles 
passed  over  the  shoulder.  On  the  corner  an  itinerant 
merchant  sat  under  an  improvised  awning  with  a 
rude  bench  before  him  on  which  to  display  his  wares, 
and  a  big  Chinese  basket  beside  him  from  which 
his  stock  might  be  renewed  as  it  was  sold.  Here 
was  a  store  with  a  window  display  of  fine  porcelains, 
silks,  padded  coats  and  gowns  covered  with  gro- 
tesque figures,  everything  about  it  denoting  neatness 
and  order.  Next  it  was  a  barber  shop  where  two 
Chinese  customers  were  undergoing  the  ordeal  of 
a  shave. 

Beyond  the  barber  shop  was  a  stairway  leading 
to  the  depths,  from  which  the  odors  of  opium  and  a 
sickening  compound  of  indescribable  smells  floated 
on  the  morning  air.  Brown  men  could  be  seen 
through  the  smoke  and  darkness,  moving  silently  as 

42 


43 

though  in  dreams,  or  listlessly  gazing  at  nothing. 
Here  was  a  shop  of  many  goods,  with  fish  and  fruits 
exposed  to  tempt  the  palates  and  purses  of  the 
passer:  Chinese  nut-fruits,  dried  and  smoked  to 
please  the  Chinese  taste,  candied  cocoanut  chips  that 
form  the  most  popular  of  Chinese  confections,  with 
roots  and  nuts  and  preserves  in  variety,  appealing 
temptingly  to  the  eyes  of  the  Chinese  who  passed. 
Behind,  were  boxes  and  bales  and  cans,  big  chests 
and  little  chests,  bright  chests  and  dingy  chests,  in 
endless  confusion.  The  blackened  walls  and  ceilings 
gave  such  an  air  of  age  that  the  shop  seemed  as 
though  it  might  have  come  out  of  the  ancient  Chi- 
nese cities  as  a  relic  of  the  days  of  Kublai  Khan. 
Shoe  factories,  clothing  factories,  and  cigar  factories, 
were  scattered  along  the  street,  with  wares  made  and 
displayed  in  the  American  fashion,  and  here  and 
there,  as  if  in  mockery,  hung  signs  that  bore  the 
legend  "White  Labor  Goods." 

The  little  brown  men  sewed  and  hammered  and 
smoothed  and  polished  and  smoked  and  chaffered 
and  traded — the  great  hive  of  Chinatown  was  astir ; 
and  over  all  rose  the  murmur  of  the  strange  sing- 
song tongue  that  finds  its  home  on  the  banks  of  the 
Yellow  River.  Here  and  there  a  white  face  showed. 
But  where  it  belonged  to  a  dweller  in  Waverly 
Place  it  was  sodden,  brutal,  depraved.  Waverly 
Place  got  only  the  dregs  and  seepage  of  the  white 
race,  and  such  as  dwelt  there  boasted  of  an  intimate 
knowledge  and  possession  of  the  vices  of  three  con- 
tinents. 


44  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Half-way  up  the  block  from  Clay  Street  I  paused 
before  a  dingy  doorway.  The  building  had  been  one 
of  the  substantial  structures  of  early  San  Francisco, 
but  the  coolie  occupation  had  orientalized  it  with  a 
coating  of  dirt  and  a  mask  of  decay. 

"This  is  an  unpromising  place  to  look  for  the  rich- 
est Chinaman  in  San  Francisco/'  was  my  mental 
comment.  "But  it  is  surely  the  number  given  me." 

As  I  moved  to  enter  the  door,  a  stout,  well-fed 
Chinaman,  with  a  pockmarked  face,  his  hands  hid- 
den in  the  sleeves  of  his  thick  blue  blouse,  put  his 
body  in  the  way. 

"What  you  wan'  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  trace  of  ag- 
gression in  his  voice. 

"I  want  see  Big  Sam,"  I  said. 

The  Chinaman's  face  took  on  the  blank,  stolid 
look  of  utter  ignorance. 

"No  sabby  Big  Sam.   No  Big  Sam  heah." 

"Nonsense!  You  know  Big  Sam.  Every  China- 
man in  San  Francisco  knows  Big  Sam.  This  is 
where  I'm  told  he  lives.  I've  got  to  see  him." 

"No  sabby  Big  Sam  heah.  One  Big  Sam  he  live 
Stockton  St'eet,  one  Big  Sam  he  live  Oakyland. 
You  go  Stockton  St'eet,  you  go  Oakyland.  No  Big 
Sam  heah." 

"See  here,  John,"  I  said,  "I've  got  to  see  Big 
Sam,  and  I  know  he's  here,  and  I'm  going  to  see 
him.  So  get  out  of  the  way." 

The  Chinaman  straightened  up  in  offended  dig- 
nity. "John"  was  a  term  of  insult,  or  at  least  of 
derogation  in  the  Chinese  mind.  Then  he  called 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          45 

back  into  the  darkness  and  two  other  Chinese  ap- 
peared. They  were  better  dressed  than  the  ordi- 
nary, and  were  evidently  some  grades  above  the 
Chinese  laborers  who  thronged  the  street. 

There  was  a  minute  or  two  of  conversation  in 
the  high-pitched  singsong  tongue  that  is  so  well 
adapted  to  the  purpose  of  concealing  thought — from 
the  white  race,  at  least — and  then  one  of  the  others 
stepped  forward. 

"I  must  see  Big  Sam,"  I  said  in  a  determined  tone. 
"You  can  tell  him  first,  or  I'll  go  in  without  it,  just 
as  you  please." 

Before  he  could  speak  there  was  a  shout  and  a 
scream  behind  me,  and  I  turned  to  see  a  Chinese 
girl  running  out  of  the  fruit  and  variety  store  across 
the  way.  She  was  probably  fifteen  years  old  and  had 
that  clear,  brilliant,  creamy  complexion  that  is  some- 
times seen  in  Chinese  women.  Though  her  round 
flat  face  was  not  beautiful  to  the  western  eye,  it  rep- 
resented one  of  the  highest  types  of  oriental  attract- 
iveness. Even  the  clumsy  garments  in  which  the 
Chinese  dress  their  women,  with  their  long  sleeves 
and  armless  coat  and  baggy  trousers,  were  not  able 
to  conceal  the  fact  that  she  was  graceful  and  well 
formed.  I  noted  these  details  more  in  memory  than 
in  the  moment  when  she  clattered  into  view,  her 
clumsy  Chinese  shoes  beating  a  tattoo  on  the  boards. 
She  had  hardly  reached  the  sidewalk  when  a  half- 
dozen  blue-bloused  heathen  surrounded  her.  She 
gave  a  scream,  but  she  was  seized  by  two  of  the 
band,  a  cloth  was  thrown  over  her  head,  and  her 


46  THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

cries  were  silenced.  If  I  had  taken  time  for  thought, 
I  should  have  sought  the  police  instead  of  the  center 
of  disturbance,  for  I  understood  how  little  chance 
I  should  have  in  a  contest  with  a  band  of  high- 
binders. But  I  could  not  see  murder  or  kidnapping 
done  before  my  eyes  without  lifting  a  hand,  and  I 
raised  a  cry  and  started  across  the  way. 

The  street  suddenly  became  alive  with  shouts  and 
screams,  and  a  hundred  Chinamen  came  running,  all 
with  hands  under  their  blouses,  chattering  ferocious- 
ly as  they  pressed  toward  the  struggling  group.  Be- 
fore I  could  reach  the  other  side  of  the  way  the  girl 
and  her  captors  had  mysteriously  disappeared, 
whisked  through  some  of  the  doors  that  looked 
blankly  upon  the  street,  and  in  their  place  was  a 
mob  of  Chinamen,  shouting,  gesticulating,  and  blow- 
ing police  whistles,  while  threats  of  slaughter  flashed 
from  their  ugly  faces.  Two  policemen  appeared 
on  the  run  and  there  was  a  sudden  melting  away  of 
the  crowd.  Hands  came  out  from  under  the  blouses 
and  from  inside  the  long  roomy  sleeves.  Threats 
and  hatred  faded  out  of  the  faces  of  the  quarreling 
men,  and  in  their  place  came  the  stolid  mask  of  the 
"no  sabby." 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  panted  one  of  the 
policemen,  while  the  other  hustled  the  Chinese  from 
one  side  of  the  walk  to  the  other  with  gruff  orders 
to  "move  on." 

I  told  of  what  I  had  seen. 

"Highbinders,"  said  the  policeman.  "I  thought  it 
was  time  they  was  breakin'  out  again.  Oh,  murther, 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          47 

but  there'll  be  killin'  over  this  before  the  day's  at 
an  end.  Hullo !  what's  this  ?" 

An  old  Chinaman  came  forward  at  this  moment, 
wringing  his  hands  and  chattering  like  a  monkey. 
His  face  was  stricken  with  signs  of  heart-breaking 
woe. 

"He  says  it  was  his  daughter,"  said  the  other 
policeman. 

"Yes — all  same  daughtah — my  gell — you  sabby  ?" 
wailed  the  old  man.  "She  go  down  store  one  minute 
all  'long  boy — all  same  my  boy — you  sabby?  One 
man  come,  say  'you  come  'long  me.'  She  heap  cly. 
Boy  heap  cly.  Two  men  come  'long — catch  gell — 
so.  One  man  hit  boy  'long  side  head.  Tlee,  fo'  men 
thlow  cloth  over  gell's  head — she  no  cly  no  mo'. 
Tlee,  fo',  fi'  men  take  gell.  Boy  lun  home.  All  same 
I  sabby  no  mo'.  Gell  all  steal."  And  the  old  man 
wrung  his  hands  with  mournful  cries. 

"H-m!  the  old  girl-stealing  trick  of  the  high- 
binders," said  the  first  policeman,  whom  I  took  to 
be  a  sergeant  of  the  force. 

"Does  he  suspect  anybody?"  I  asked. 

The  old  man  caught  the  idea. 

"Maybe — I  no  know,"  he  cried.  "One  day  two 
men  come.  All  same  they  say  heap  like  my  gell.  I 
say  no  got  gell.  One  man  say  all  same  give  me 
t'ousand  dolla'.  I  say  I  no  want  t'ousand  dolla'. 
Othe'  man  he  say  twel'  hund'  dolla'.  I  say  all  same 
I  no  want  twel'  hund'  dolla'.  Two  men  say  bad 
word,  all  same  Clistian,  you  sabby?" 

"What  men  were  they?"  asked  the  sergeant. 


48  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"You  sabby  Suey  Sing  men?"  said  the  old  man. 
"Two  men  all  same  Suey  Sing." 

"The  Suey  Sing  Tong-*-ril  bet  he's  lying,"  said 
the  sergeant.  "It's  more  like  the  Sare  Bo  Tong. 
Well,  go  along  with  him  and  get  the  boy's  story. 
Maybe  the  kid  can't  lie  so  fast.  I'll  go  down  to  the 
hall  and  send  up  a  squad.  There's  like  to  be  trouble 
over  this." 

"Do  you  think  there  will  be  a  fight  ?"  I  asked. 

"There  was  a  lot  of  the  Hop  Sings  about  as  we 
came  up,"  said  the  officer,  "and  I  reckon  the  old  man 
belongs  to  'em.  The  others  was  mostly  Sare  Bos. 
There's  bad  blood  between  'em,  anyhow,  and  I  look 
for  some  killing  out  of  it.  Are  you  walking  down  ?" 

"No,  I've  a  bit  of  business  here."  And  I  turned 
back  to  the  door  that  had  barred  the  way  to  the 
rooms  of  Big  Sam. 

As  I  reached  the  threshold  I  drew  back  before  the 
advance  of  a  party  of  Chinese,  who  filed  out  of  the 
shop  one  by  one  to  the  number  of  a  dozen  or  more. 
Their  stolid  faces  showed  no  interest  in  me  or  any- 
thing else,  and  half  of  them  turned  to  the  south,  half 
to  the  north,  and  they  followed  the  uncompanion- 
able Chinese  habit  of  straggling  in  single  file.  A 
tall  stout  Chinaman,  dressed  in  baggy  trousers  and 
a  padded  Chinese  coat  of  fine  blue  cloth,  stood  just 
inside  the  door  and  watched  them  narrowly  as  they 
went  out.  As  the  last  coolie  passed  I  stepped  for- 
ward and  into  the  doorway. 

The  tall  Chinaman  looked  at  me  blandly. 

"Were  you  not  a   little  indiscreet  to  think  of 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          49 

interfering  in  one  of  our  family  quarrels?"  he  said, 
with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  on  his  full  smooth  face.  He 
spoke  English  fluently,  with  just  a  trace  of  the 
Chinese  intonation.  The  "r"  that  is  the  despair  of 
the  Chinese  tongue  rolled  full  and  clear  from  his  lips. 
I  had  been  on  the  point  of  addressing  him  in  the 
"pidgin  English"  considered  necessary  in  communi- 
cating with  the  heathen  intelligence,  and  was  stricken 
with  surprise. 

"I — I  didn't  think  of  interfering,"  I  replied. 

"One  would  not  have  suspected  you  of  so  much 
discretion  to  see  you  running  across  the  street,"  he 
said,  with  the  same  bland  look.  "The  next  time  you 
think  of  taking  part  in  such  an  entertainment,  I 
beg  of  you  to  reflect  that  half  the  men  in  the  crowd 
carried  something  like  this."  And  with  a  smile  he 
drew  back  the  Chinese  jacket  and  touched  the  han- 
dle of  a  big  navy  six-shooter.  The  weapon  was 
eighteen  inches  long  and  would  carry  a  forty-four 
caliber  bullet  for  a  hundred  yards.  "If  he  didn't 
have  that  he  probably  had  something  of  this  sort 
about  him."  He  gave  his  voluminous  sleeve  a  shake, 
and  a  big  knife  with  a  ten-inch  blade  was  in  his  hand. 
"These  pleasant  little  parties  are  not  always  what 
they  seem,"  he  continued,  "and  it  is  just  as  well  to 
watch  them  from  a  distance." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said.  "I'd  prefer  not  to  be  on 
close  acquaintance  with  anything  of  the  kind  you  are 
hinting  at.  That  wasn't  what  I  came  for." 

"I  understand  that  you  were  looking  for  me, 
Mr.—" 


50  THE 'APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

"Hampden,"  I  supplied  the  name.  "I  believe  I  am 
speaking  to — "  Then  I  hesitated.  I  really  did  not 
know  his  name,  and  it  struck  me  as  something  of  an 
absurdity  to  call  the  dignified  and  forceful  man  be- 
fore me  by  the  nickname  that  was  on  the  tip  of  my 
tongue. 

He  smiled. 

"Sometimes  I  am  known  as  Kwan  Sam  Suey,"  he 
said,  "but  your  people  call  me  'Big  Sam.'  Won't 
you  step  this  way?" 

He  turned  back  into  the  dingy  shop,  passed  into 
a  dingy  hallway,  and  led  to  a  dingy  stairway  beyond. 
It  was  something  worse  than  shabby.  I  reflected 
with  wonder  that  one  of  the  richest  of  the  Chinese, 
and  by  report  the  most  powerful  man  in  Chinatown, 
should  be  content  to  dwell  in  such  a  barn.  On  the 
third  floor  Big  Sam  opened  a  door  and  stood  aside 
bowing  me  to  enter. 

"My  office,"  said  he. 

As  I  passed  the  threshold  I  was  overwhelmed  with 
amazement.  Instead  of  the  bare  walls  and  dingy 
cobwebbed  den  the  entrance  had  led  me  to  expect,  I 
was  ushered  into  a  room  fitted  up  with  a  wealth  of 
decoration  and  discomfort  that  was  thoroughly  ori- 
ental. The  walls  were  covered  with  woven  tapestry, 
grotesque  in  figures  and  bright  with  colors.  Dark 
cabinets,  rich  with  carving,  stood  about  the  room; 
the  desk  and  chairs  showed  the  patient  handicraft 
of  the  Ancient  Empire;  the  floor  was  inlaid  with 
varied  woods,  and  beaten  brass  and  copper  were 
freely  used  for  decorative  effect.  To  the  western 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          51 

mind  the  colors  and  the  ornamentation  were  garish, 
yet  I  could  see  that  the  fittings  were  costly  and  a 
striking  example  of  Chinese  artistic  taste. 

Big  Sam  waved  me  to  a  seat  and  took  his  place 
at  the  desk. 

"I  assume,  Mr.  Hampden,  that  you  did  not  come 
here  out  of  idle  curiosity?" 

"That  depends,"  said  I,  repressing  with  difficulty 
the  instinct  to  address  him  in  the  "pidgin"  dialect. 
"You  might  call  it  curiosity,  and  idle  at  that ;  but  it 
is  of  some  concern  to  me." 

"I  can  believe  it,"  he  said  politely. 

"But  before  I  enter  on  the  errand  that  brings  me 
here,  I  should  present  you  with  my  credentials." 
And  I  handed  him  the  card  from  Kendrick. 

He  scarcely  glanced  at  it. 

"Any  friend  of  Mr.  Kendrick's  is  welcome  to 
any  service  in  my  power  to  give,"  he  said,  with  a 
bow. 

"I  have  a  paper  written  in  your  tongue  that  I 
should  like  explained  to  me,"  I  said,  bringing  forth 
the  sheet  and  unfolding  it. 

Big  Sam  leaned  across  the  desk  to  receive  it.  I 
put  it  in  his  hand  and  kept  one  eye  on  his  face,  the 
other  on  the  sheet  of  paper. 

There  was  no  trace  of  surprise  on  the  bronze 
mask  of  the  Oriental.  For  an  instant  I  thought  I 
could  detect  a  shadow  of  the  stolid  "no-sabby"  look 
of  the  coolie,  but  it  was  gone  with  the  dropping  of 
an  eyelid.  There  was  before  me  only  the  grave,  im- 
passive face  of  the  Chinese  merchant. 


52  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"What  is  the  difficulty?"  he  asked  with  a  polite 
smile,  after  he  had  glanced  over  the  paper. 

"The  difficulty  is  that  none  of  your  countrymen 
seems  to  be  able  to  translate  it." 

"I  can  not  believe  it." 

"I  have  asked  a  dozen." 

"They  were  very  busy."  The  voice  was  a  combi- 
nation of  assertion  and  inquiry,  but  my  ear  warned 
me  of  something  mocking  in  it,  too. 

"They  concealed  it  most  successfully,  if  they 
were,"  I  retorted. 

Big  Sam  smiled  again,  and  took  up  the  paper.  It 
slipped  from  his  hand  and  fluttered  to  the  floor. 

"Excuse  my  clumsiness,"  he  said,  diving  after  it. 

I  sprang  around  the  corner  of  the  desk  to  assist 
in  recovering  it,  and  dropped  to  one  knee. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said,  catching  at  the  paper 
that  Big  Sam  was  stowing  away  in  his  capacious 
sleeve.  "I  believe  this  is  the  document."  And  I  held 
it  up. 

"I  think  not,"  said  Big  Sam,  straightening  up 
and  looking  me  blandly  in  the  eye.  "I  believe  this 
is  it."  And  he  handed  me  another  paper  with  a 
bewildering  maze  of  Chinese  characters  straggling 
across  it. 

I  was  puzzled  and  rose,  looking  first  at  the  sheets 
of  paper  and  then  at  Big  Sam.  There  was  a  flash 
of  triumph  in  his  eye  that  made  me  suspect  that 
neither  sheet  was  mine,  after  all.  I  cursed  my  ill- 
luck  in  not  knowing  something  of  Chinese  writing.. 

"Allow  me  to  assist  you,"  said  Big  Sam  politely. 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          53 

"This  is  your  paper."  And  he  indicated  one  of  the 
two  in  my  hand  with  his  long  brown  finger. 

I  saw  that  I  was  beaten.  The  clever  Oriental  had 
been  one  too  many  for  me.  I  raged  inwardly  as  I 
looked  at  that  bland,  courteous,  impassive  face  be- 
fore me,  and  for  an  instant  thought  of  attempting 
to  search  him  by  force.  The  thought  was  gone  as 
soon  as  it  came.  Even  with  a  fair  field  the  result  of 
a  personal  encounter  between  us  would  have  been 
in  doubt.  Big  Sam  was  a  well-built,  powerful  man, 
able  to  give  a  good  account  of  himself  in  a  rough- 
and-tumble  fight.  But  in  that  den  it  would  have  been 
madness  to  raise  a  finger  against  him.  I  should  but 
add  another  to  the  long  list  of  mysterious  disappear- 
ances. I  swallowed  my  discomfiture  and  said  as 
blandly  as  Big  Sam  himself : 

"If  you  have  no  objections  I'll  take  a  translation 
of  both  documents." 

Big  Sam  paid  my  request  the  tribute  of  a  smile. 
I  read  in  the  turn  of  his  lips  a  confirmation  of  my 
suspicion  that  neither  paper  was  the  one  I  had 
brought. 

"Certainly,"  he  said.  "I  will  read  them  both  to 
you.  After  that  you  can  say  more  wisely  which  is 
yours." 

He  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  one  of  the  papers, 
when  a  triple  rap  sounded  at  one  of  the  panels.  He 
straightened  up  and  looked  at  me  gravely. 

"If  you  have  no  objections,  Mr.  Hampden,  I  shall 
do  a  little  business.  Can  you  spare  the  time  for  the 
interruption  ?" 


54  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Certainly.  When  shall  I  come  back?"  said  I, 
rising. 

"Don't  move,"  said  the  Oriental  courteously.  "It 
will  be  but  a  few  minutes,  and  it  may  interest  you." 
He  rapped  on  the  desk  before  him,  the  door  swung 
open,  and  in  filed  a  dozen  or  more  Chinese. 

In  the  midst  of  the  band  were  two  men  whose 
coarse  dark  faces  stirred  a  ripple  of  memory.  Where 
had  I  seen  them?  For  a  moment  I  could  not  recall 
them,  searching  too  far  back  in  time  to  cross  their 
trail.  Then  it  came  to  me  that  these  were  the  two 
villains  who  had  seized  the  Chinese  girl  across  the 
way  but  a  few  minutes  before.  Their  stolid  faces 
were  hardly  more  expressive  than  a  mask,  yet  under 
the  "no-sabby"  look  there  was  an  indefinable  trace 
of  fear.  In  the  rear  of  the  band  was  the  old  man 
whose  girl  had  been  stolen.  None  of  them  paid  the 
slightest  attention  to  my  presence,  yet  I  felt  well 
assured  that  not  a  detail  of  my  appearance  was  lost 
to  them,  as  they  huddled  about  the  desk  before  Big 
Sam. 

The  face  of  Big  Sam  had  changed.  In  place  of  the 
bland  and  courteous  diplomat  was  the  stern  judge 
and  ruler.  In  his  eye  was  the  anger  that  he  could 
not  wholly  conceal.  His  voice  gave  no  sign  of  emo- 
tion. He  spoke  in  even  tones,  yet  there  was  a  force 
behind  them  that  made  every  word  a  threat. 

It  might  all  have  been  in  dumb  show  for  the  un- 
derstanding I  got  of  it.  On  the  one  side  was  accu- 
sation and  reproach.  On  the  other  was  sullen  excuse 
and  defense.  I  could  see  that  the  anger  of  Big  Sam 


The  girl  threw  herself  on  the  floor  P#ge  55 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE  55 

grew  as  he  spoke.  Then  at  some  denial  or  evasion 
of  the  men  before  him  he  clapped  his  hands,  a  door 
opened  and  the  young  girl  whose  abduction  I  had 
witnessed  stepped  in.  She  gave  a  cry  as  she  saw 
the  two  men  who  had  seized  her,  and  would  have 
shrunk  back. 

The  old  man,  who  had  been  standing  in  dejection 
in  the  rear  of  the  crowd,  made  an  inarticulate  sound 
of  satisfaction  and  started  toward  her. 

Big  Sam  jumped  to  his  feet ;  the  rage  in  his  eyes 
overflowed  into  his  face,  and  his  voice  rang  out 
sharply.  The  girl  ran  to  Big  Sam  and  clasped  her 
hands,  then  threw  herself  on  the  floor  before  him. 

At  the  sound  of  Big  Sam's  words  the  old  man 
stepped  back  mumbling.  Big  Sam  waved  his  hand, 
the  abductors  and  the  old  man  were  led  away,  and 
the  girl,  with  hands  clasped,  lay  bowed  to  the  floor 
beside  me. 

The  rage  slowly  faded  out  of  the  face  of  Big 
Sam.  With  a  word  he  raised  the  girl  to  her  feet, 
motioned  her  to  a  chair  and  seated  himself. 

"Of  what  use  is  it  to  hold  the  power  of  life  and 
death  over  men,  when  folly  and  greed  are  more 
powerful  than  your  will?" 

Big  Sam  spoke  with  a  smile,  but  there  was  a  bit- 
terness in  his  tone. 

"Neither  money  nor  fear  can  put  brains  into  the 
head  of  a  fool,"  he  continued,  with  the  same  acrid 
savor  to  his  words.  "I  suppose  you  have  hardly  un- 
derstood what  has  gone  on,  Mr.  Hampden." 

"I  confess  I  am  much  in  the  dark." 


56  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Necessarily,  as  you  do  not  understand  our  lan- 
guage. You  saw  the  beginning  of  the  trouble.  You 
have  seen  what  followed.  I  wish  you  could  tell  me 
the  end." 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  answered,  "that  I'm  not  a 
prophet — " 

"It  would  be  worth  something  to  me — to  both  of 
us — if  you  were." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  turned  to  his  charge 
before  he  continued :  "This  girl,  as  you  may  sup- 
pose, is  a  valuable  piece  of  property." 

"I  had  not  looked  at  her  in  that  light." 

"A  defect  of  your  western  training,  Mr.  Hamp- 
den.  She  belongs  to  one  of  our  tongs — or  to  the 
leading  men  of  that  tong,  which  amounts  to  the  same 
thing.  Another  tong  has  been  most  anxious  to  se- 
cure her,  and  has  offered  as  high  as  three  thousand 
dollars  for  her  possession.  It  was  refused  and  four 
thousand  demanded.  I  interfered  so  far  as  to  order 
that  the  girl  should  be  reserved  until  some  man  of- 
fered to  make  her  his  wife.  She  is  pretty — very 
pretty,  to  our  notions — and  I  have  interested  myself 
so  much  in  her  welfare  as  to  think  that  she  would 
grace  a  home.  I  suppose  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you 
that  the  leaders  of  the  two  tongs  have  no  such  des- 
tiny in  view  for  her." 

"Well,  no,  if  rumor  does  them  no  injustice,"  I 
assented. 

"It  was  promised  that  I  should  be  obeyed.  I  have 
been  obeyed  for  many  months.  Yet  just  at  this  mo- 
ment,  when  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  we 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          57 

should  be  a  peaceful,  united  body,  these  dogs  of  the 
gutter  start  a  war  between  the  tongs." 

"You  have  shown  your  power  to  end  it,"  I  said. 

"You  are  too  flattering,  I  fear,"  said  the  King  of 
Chinatown.  "Fire  in  flax,  you  say.  It  is  so  much 
easier  to  keep  fire  out  of  flax  than  to  stamp  it  out 
after  it  starts.  It  is  in  my  power  to  punish  these 
men,  but  I  fear  that  it  is  beyond  my  power  to 
smother  their  enmity.  In  the  code  of  the  tongs 
blood  or  blood-money  must  pay  for  this."  He  mused 
for  a  little  and  seemed  to  be  speaking  to  himself  as 
much  as  to  me.  "That  this  should  happen  at  such 
a  time,  when  everything  depends  on  our  self-con- 
trol! It  is  shameful — shameful — a  reproach  to  our 
race." 

"At  such  a  time?  I  do  not  understand  you,"  I 
ventured.  The  hint  in  his  words  was  too  plain  to 
miss. 

He  looked  at  me  sharply. 

"You  do  not  know  what  is  going  on  in  your  own 
city,  Mr.  Hampden,"  he  said  politely. 

"I  confess  to  a  lack  of  information  on  the  point 
you  mention." 

"It  will  be  brought  to  your  attention  later,"  said 
Big  Sam  dryly.  "But  I  am  detaining  you  with  mat- 
ters of  no  interest.  You  wished  a  translation  of  these 
papers  ?" 

His  face  was  bland  and  impassive,  yet  I  had  the 
impression  that  he  felt  he  had  said  too  much. 

"It  has  been  deeply  interesting,"  I  said.  "But  I 
am  imposing  on  your  good  nature."  It  was  of  no 


58  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

use  to  seek  to  learn  from  Big  Sam  anything  that  he 
thought  fit  to  conceal,  and  I  placed  the  slips  before 
him. 

He  read  them  off  gravely.  One  was  a  polite  note 
of  invitation  to  dinner.  The  other  a  memorandum 
of  goods  bought,  or  to  be  bought. 

I  thanked  him  and  raged  inwardly  that  I  should 
have  been  outwitted. 

Big  Sam  smiled  blandly.  "It  is  nothing  in  the 
way  of  treason,  whichever  paper  you  may  choose." 

"Quite  innocent,"  I  said,  looking  in  his  half  veiled 
eyes.  I  read  that  he  was  under  no  delusion  that  he 
had  deceived  me.  I  rose  to  go. 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Hampden,"  he  said.  "You 
have  asked  a  trifling  favor  of  me.  May  I  ask  a  much 
greater  one  of  you  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"This  girl — I  am  perplexed  to  know  what  to  do 
with  her." 

"Is  there  a  more  proper  custodian  than  her 
father?" 

"Father?" 

"The  old  man — you  know.*' 

Big  Sam  laughed — a  most  unpleasant  laugh,  too. 

"Quite  as  near  a  relation  as  yourself,  Mr.  Hamp- 
den. He  is  merely  the  custodian  for  his  tong." 

"Then  his  pitiful  tale  to  the  police — " 

"Oh,  we  do  not  want  for  the  inventive  faculty." 

"Then  what  better  guardian  could  you  suggest 
than  yourself,"  I  said,  "or  what  better  place  than  in 
your  own  home — or  one  of  your  homes  ?"  Big  Sam 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE  59 

was  reported  to  have  one  white  wife  and  two  Chi- 
nese wives,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  might  pro- 
vide for  her  safety  with  one  of  the  three,  in  case  he 
did  not  wish  to  add  to  his  matrimonial  blessings. 

"I  have  thought  of  that,  but  there  are  difficul- 
ties," he  said,  as  a  man  considering.  "I  shall  excite 
less  enmity  if  I  can  provide  for  her  safety  in  another 
way." 

"The  Mission — "  I  suggested. 

"I  should  have  both  tongs  at  my  throat  at  once," 
he  laughed.  "She  must  be  where  she  can  be  re- 
turned at  my  will.  And  it  is  best  that  she  should 
be  with  some  good  white  woman." 

"I'm  afraid  that  the  good  white  woman  you  have 
in  mind  would  not  care  to  take  her  in  charge  on 
those  terms,"  I  said. 

Big  Sam  looked  at  the  girl  thoughtfully. 

"Well,  then,  I  must  let  my  benevolent  plans  for 
her  welfare  go.  It  is  a  pity,  too.  I  do  not  often  in- 
dulge in  such  a  luxury.  But  there  are  more  impor- 
tant matters  at  stake  than  the  life  of  a  girl." 

I  looked  at  the  girl  and  remembered  a  painted 
face  that  had  grinned  at  me  from  behind  a  wicket  a 
little  while  before.  At  the  thought  of  what  it  meant 
to  her,  I  took  a  sudden  resolve. 

"If  I  can  be  of  service,  I  shall  be  happy." 

"I  don't  think  you  will  regret  it,"  said  Big  Sam. 
"Can  you  arrange  it  by  this  evening?" 

"I  can  not  promise.  The  conditions  make  a  dif- 
ficulty." 

"True.   But  they  are  imperative.    I  must  trust  to 


60  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

your  honor  to  carry  them  out.  But  I  hope  that  you 
will  remember  that  I  stake  my  life  on  it." 

I  looked  my  surprise. 

"It  is  quite  true,"  he  said  simply.  "My  people 
are  not  troubled  with  scruples  in  the  matter,  and  I 
must  be  security  that  the  girl  will  be  returned  when 
the  conditions  I  make  are  complied  with." 

"And  these  are — " 

"That  a  worthy  man  of  her  race  wishes  to  make 
her  his  wife,  and  is  willing  to  settle  the  claims  of 
the  two  tongs." 

"The  two  tongs?" 

"Yes.  He  must  pay  the  price  demanded  by  the 
one,  and  the — the — " 

"Blackmail,"  I  suggested,  as  Big  Sam  hesitated 
for  a  word. 

"Well,  yes — not  a  pleasant  word,  I  believe,  but 
accurate — the  blackmail  demanded  by  the  other." 

"I  will  do  my  best  to  find  a  guardian  who  will 
meet  your  conditions." 

"Can  you  make  it  convenient  to  bring  your  word 
this  evening?" 

"That  is  short  notice." 

"It  is  important.  I  shall  be  here  from  nine  to 
twelve." 

"I  shall  do  my  best." 

"I  shall  be  deeply  in  your  debt,"  he  said. 

I  looked  at  him  closely. 

"You  can  cancel  it  readily." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy.   How  ?" 

I  hesitated  a  moment  and  rose. 


MACHIAVELLI    IN    BRONZE          61 

"By  telling  me  what  is  the  business  of  your  com- 
munications with  Mr.  Peter  Bolton." 

We  had  come  to  such  confidential  terms  on  the 
matter  of  the  maiden  that  Big  Sam  allowed  himself 
to  be  surprised.  His  discomposure  flashed  in  his 
eyes  for  but  an  instant,  and  was  gone. 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  he  said  politely,  rising 
in  his  turn. 

"The  memorandum  that  I  brought  might  remind 
you,"  I  said  dryly. 

I  could  see  that  I  had  risen  a  notch  in  Big  Sam's 
estimation;  and  he  was  uncertain  how  much  more 
I  knew  than  was  on  the  surface. 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  me,"  he  said.  "I 
furnished  Mr.  Bolton  a  thousand  men  three  months 
ago,  but  we  have  had  no  transactions  since.  I  wish 
you  good  morning.  I  shall  expect  you  to-night  be- 
tween nine  o'clock  and  midnight." 

And  he  bowed  me  out. 


CHAPTER  V 
MISS  KENDRICK'S  PLEASURE 

"I  suppose  it's  my  uncle  you  want  to  see,  so  I'll 
be  going,"  said  Miss  Kendrick  in  her  piquant  voice. 
She  had  been  reading  as  I  was  ushered  into  the 
library,  and  now  stood,  book  in  hand,  in  a  graceful 
attitude  of  meditated  flight. 

"If  you  please,"  I  said,  "it's  not  your  uncle  I  want 
to  see.  I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 

"A  favor?  Of  me?  Well,  I  hope  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  Bellinger  ball,  for  I'm  trying  to  in- 
vent an  excuse  for  not  going."  And  Miss  Kendrick 
tilted  her  nose  and  looked  defiantly  at  me. 

"I  had  no  idea  such  an  atrocity  was  in  contempla- 
tion," I  said.  "What  I  want  is  some  advice." 

"Oh,  how  delightful !"  cried  Miss  Kendrick,  sink- 
ing into  her  chair  and  motioning  me  to  a  seat.  "I 
always  did  dearly  love  to  give  advice.  It's  such  fun, 
for  nobody  ever  follows  it,  and  I  can  always  tell  them 
how  much  better  things  would  have  turned  out  if 
they  had.  But  I  never  had  anybody  come  and  ask 
for  it  before."  There  was  a  sarcastic  note  in  her 
piquant  voice  that  made  me  wonder,  after  all, 
whether  I  liked  it. 

"Now  you  are  making  sport  of  me,"  I  said. 

"Not  at  all.  I  am  quite  serious,  and  shall  listen 
62 


MISS    KENDRICK'S    PLEASURE       63 

with  all  my  ears.  Who  is  she,  and  what  is  the  dif- 
ficulty?" 

"Cherches  la  femme — I  see  you  have  learned  your 
proverbs.  She's  a  little  heathen  and  I  forgot  to  ask 
her  name,  and — " 

"You're  a  heathen  yourself,  then.  Why  don't  you 
tell  your  story  straight?" 

"You  interrupted  me.   She's  a  Chinese  girl — " 

"Oh,"  cried  Miss  Kendrick,  "I  don't  want  to  criti- 
cize, but  if  she  isn't  prettier  than  the  ones  I've  seen, 
it's  due  my  conscience  to  tell  you  that  I  don't  ad- 
mire your  taste.  And  you  might  at  least  have  in- 
quired her  name." 

"Good  heavens!"  I  gasped.  "It's  not  a  love  af- 
fair." 

"How  disappointing !"  she  sighed,  with  an  affecta- 
tion of  addressing  the  bust  of  Homer  that  frowned 
from  the  top  of  the  bookcase.  "I  thought  he  was  go- 
ing to  be  interesting.  Well,  if  it  isn't  a  love  affair, 
I  don't  see  what  you  want  my  advice  for;  but  if 
you'll  have  the  goodness  to  explain  the  matter,  I'll 
do  my  best  for  you." 

Thereupon  I  told  her  the  story  of  my  morning's 
adventure,  or  so  much  as  concerned  the  Chinese 
maiden,  and  set  forth  the  wish  of  Big  Sam  to  have 
the  girl  in  the  hands  of  a  white  woman  who  would 
surrender  her  on  demand. 

"Now,  I've  gone  to  three  ladies  I  thought  might 
be  willing  to  undertake  the  charge,"  I  concluded, 
"but  they  would  hear  nothing  of  it  unless  she  was 
to  be  converted  and  stay  with  the  whites,  or  with 


64  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Christian  Chinese.  That  is  out  of  the  question.  I'm 
at  the  end  of  my  list,  and  I'm  looking  for  another; 
so  I've  come  to  you." 

Miss  Kendrick  listened  with  absorbed  interest. 
Whatever  of  raillery  or  affectation  there  had  been 
in  her  manner  was  gone. 

"I'm  not  wise  about  such  matters,"  she  said  so- 
berly, "but  I  think  you  have  done  what  you  ought. 
I've  heard  of  this  dreadful  slavery  from  the  girls 
who  teach  at  the  Mission,  but  I  can  hardly  believe 
it.  I'm  sure  we  must  do  what  we  can  to  save  this 
girl."  She  was  silent  for  a  little,  and  then  went  on. 
"I'm  afraid  my  list  is  the  Mission  list.  And  you're 
quite  certain  the  Mission  list  won't  do?" 

"Quite  certain." 

She  counted  her  small  fingers  with  an  inaudible 
moving  of  the  lips,  and  I  watched  her  with  the 
pleasure  that  one  takes  in  watching  a  pretty  child. 
She  was  so  small  it  seemed  impossible  that  she  was 
seriously  considering  one  of  the  serious  problems  of 
life.  She  gave  a  little  sigh  as  the  last  finger  was 
reached. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  her,"  she  said  regret- 
fully. "All  my  ladies  are  very  religious  ladies,  and 
I  don't  think  they  would  approve  your  bargain  at 
all.  I'm  not  sure,  on  mature  consideration,  that  I 
approve  it  myself." 

"It  is  that  or  nothing." 

"Isn't  there  a  law,  or  a  habeas  corpus  writ,  or  a 
policeman,  or  something?"  said  Miss  Kendrick  anx- 
iously, 


MISS    KENDRICK'S    PLEASURE       65 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  I,  smiling  grimly  at  the  recol- 
lection of  Big  Sam  and  his  power,  "that  the  law 
doesn't  afford  us  much  encouragement.  We  should 
never  find  her  if  we  tried  that  policy." 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  know  best  about  that.  So  I 
don't  see  anything  to  do  but  to  take  her  in  here." 

"Why,  Miss  Kendrick!"  I  exclaimed.  "I  didn't 
think  of  such  a  thing  as  that.  What  would  your 
uncle  say?" 

"Uncle  might  be  a  little  explosive,"  admitted  Miss 
Kendrick  with  a  smile,  "but  it's  just  possible  that  he 
could  be  managed." 

I  was  perplexed  to  know  what  to  do.  I  could  see 
vague,  unformed  reasons  against  accepting  her  offer, 
yet  it  might  prove  that  there  was  no  other  resource, 
if  I  was  not  to  abandon  the  Chinese  girl  to  her  fate. 
I  was  turning  over  in  my  mind  what  to  say  when  a 
servant  appeared  and  announced : 

"Mr.  Baldwin  to  see  you,  Miss." 

Miss  Kendrick  blushed  very  prettily  at  the  name, 
and  I  felt  a  sudden  dislike  of  any  man  who  should 
be  so  far  in  her  favor  that  his  name  should  call  the 
color  to  her  face. 

"Here's  the  man  who  can  help  us,"  she  said.  "He's 
sure  to  know  somebody  who  will  do." 

This  confidence  in  Mr.  Baldwin  gave  me  a  most 
unpleasant  shock,  nor  were  my  unchristian  feelings 
softened  by  the  air  of  confidential  proprietorship 
with  which  Mr.  Baldwin  took  Miss  Kendrick's  hand 
and  replied  to  Miss  Kendrick's  greeting. 

Mr.  Baldwin  proved  to  be  a  tall,  big-faced  young 


66  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

man,  with  a  black  mustache  and  a  pair  of  snapping 
black  eyes.  He  accepted  an  introduction  with  such 
frigid  politeness  that  it  was  only  an  access  of  in- 
ternal resentment  that  prevented  me  from  being 
frozen. 

"I  believe  we  have  not  met,"  he  said  coldly. 

"I  believe  not,"  I  replied  cheerfully,  "though  I 
saw  you  in  the  last  trial  of  Merwin  against  Bolton." 

He  bowed  in  a  superior  way  at  the  compliment  of 
the  recollection,  though  as  junior  member  of  the  firm 
of  Hunter,  Fessenden  and  Baldwin  he  had  played  in 
court  what  the  actors  know  as  a  "thinking  part"  as 
the  guardian  of  a  stack  of  law  books  from  which  his 
more  celebrated  partners  drew  their  inspiration. 

"For  the  defense,"  admitted  Mr.  Baldwin.  "A 
very  interesting  case." 

"Oh,  don't  get  him  started  on  that,  Mr.  Hamp- 
den,"  said  Miss  Kendrick.  "I've  lectured  him  on 
the  wickedness  of  being  in  the  hire  of  that  awful 
Peter  Bolton,  but  he's  quite  incorrigible.  I've  some- 
thing much  more  important  to  talk  to  him  about." 

"I  am  all  ears,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin,  unbending 
graciously.  It  was  marvelous  to  note  the  difference 
in  his  manner  of  addressing  us. 

"Not  so  bad  as  that !"  said  Miss  Kendrick.  "Well, 
it's  a  case  of  knight-errantry  that  Mr.  Hampden 
has  engaged  in,  and  your  help  is  needed." 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin,  "my  services  are  ten- 
dered only  to  beauty  in  distress." 

"That's  exactly  the  case,"  said  Miss  Kendrick.  "It 
isn't  Mr.  Hampden  who  is  to  be  rescued.  It's  a  lady 


MISS    KENDRICK'S    PLEASURE       67 

fair.  She's  locked  up  in  the  ogre's  castle  and  I  want 
her  taken  out." 

"Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin.  "Would  any 
particular  time  suit  you  ?  It  lacks  three  hours  yet  of 
midnight." 

"Oh,  it  must  be  done  right  away,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
drick. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "Mr.  Baldwin  should  be  enlight- 
ened as  to  the  chief  difficulty.  There's  no  trouble  in 
getting  the  lady  in  the  case.  The  principal  thing  is 
to  know  what  to  do  with  her  after  she's  rescued."  I 
began  to  hope  that  Mr.  Baldwin  might  know  of  some 
proper  custodian  for  the  Chinese  girl. 

"Why,  Mr.  Hampden  is  to  marry  her  out  of  hand, 
I  suppose,"  said  he.  "That's  the  way  it  used  to  run 
in  the  old  story-books." 

"Thank  you,  no,"  I  laughed.  "I  resign  my  claim 
to  Mr.  Baldwin  in  advance." 

"I  don't  think  it  would  do,"  said  Miss  Kendrick, 
shaking  her  head  sagely.  "Besides,  there  are  other 
conditions  to  be  fulfilled.  But  I  truly  want  your 
counsel,  Mr.  Baldwin." 

"At  your  service.  Let  me  hear  the  case." 

Thereupon  Miss  Kendrick  stated  the  problem  of 
the  Chinese  girl. 

"Now,"  she  continued,  "unless  you  can  suggest 
some  better  way,  I  want  her  brought  here." 

"Well,  my  advice,  since  you  have  asked  it,  is  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  affair,"  said  Mr.  Bald- 
win. 

"Oh,  that  wasn't  the  part  I  wanted  to  ask  you 


68  THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

about,"  said  Miss  Kendrick  composedly.  "I  want  to 
find  if  you  know  anybody  better  fitted  than  I  am  to 
take  charge  of  her  under  the  conditions — some  older 
person,  you  know,  for  I'm  not  so  venerable  as  I'm 
afraid  I  shall  be  some  day." 

Mr.  Baldwin  appeared  to  be  no  better  pleased  than 
I  with  the  idea  of  having  Miss  Kendrick  take  charge 
of  the  girl. 

"These  are  not  the  sort  of  people  you  should  have 
to  do  with,"  he  began,  when  she  stopped  him. 

"Were  you  going  to  say  that  you  knew  of  some- 
body who  can  do  it  better  than  I?  Because  if  you 
weren't,  the  sooner  you  and  Mr.  Hampden  start  on 
your  expedition  the  sooner  you'll  be  coming  back." 

I  was  not  so  sure  that  I  cared  for  the  company  of 
Mr.  Baldwin  in  my  visit  to  Big  Sam,  but  I  could  see 
no  way  to  decline  it. 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin  with  sudden  bright- 
ening, "that  we  want  Mercy  Fillmore.  She  isn't  so 
old  a  person  as  you  might  like,  Miss  Kendrick,  but 
she  has  taken  to  charity  work  and  is  used  to  dealing 
with  this  sort  of  people.  Except  for  her  liking  for 
that  kind  of  work,  she's  a  reasonable  creature  and 
doesn't  make  conversion  to  a  church  the  sole  object 
of  her  life.  I  don't  see  why  she  has  gone  in  for  it, 
but  as  she  has  decided  to  waste  her  life  in  that  way 
she  might  as  well  waste  it  on  this  young  person  as 
on  any  other." 

"I  remember  her,"  said  Miss  Kendrick,  nodding 
her  shapely  head.  "She  was  one  of  the  'big  girls' 
when  I  started  to  school.  She  was  very  good  to  us 


MISS    KENDRICK'S    PLEASURE       69 

youngsters  and  I  believe  the  other  big  girls  used  to 
call  her  'a  little  queer.'  I  used  to  think  her  quite 
grown  up,  for  she  was  fifteen  when  I  was  ten.  But 
I  dare  say  she  wouldn't  seem  so  venerable  now.  I'm 
sure  she  would  be  just  the  one — if  she'll  do  it." 

"I  can  answer  for  her,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin. 

"Well,  you  can't  see  her  to-night,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
drick,  "so  you  had  better  go  with  Mr.  Hampden  and 
bring  the  girl  here.  Then  you  can  arrange  with 
Miss  Fillmore  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Baldwin  looked  appealingly  at  me. 

"Why  wouldn't  it  be  better,"  I  said,  "to  leave  the 
girl  where  she  is  till  to-morrow?  I  shall  tell  Big 
Sam  what  we  have  decided  and  he  can  keep  her 
safe." 

Mr.  Baldwin  nodded  approval. 

"I  see/'  said  Miss  Kendrick,  "that  you  have  oceans 
of  confidence  in  Big  Sam  and  those  murderous  high- 
binders. But  I'm  not  a  man,  and  I  haven't.  I  don't 
know  what  will  happen  before  morning.  Now,  if 
you'll  put  on  your  hats  and  coats  and  go,  you'll  re- 
lieve my  mind." 

I  rose  reluctantly. 

"If  you  don't  like  to  go  alone,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
drick, with  a  saucy  shake  of  the  head  and  a  very  de- 
termined look  about  the  mouth,  "I'll  ask  you  to  be 
my  escort." 

"But,  I  was  about  to  ask — what  will  your  uncle 
say?" 

"Say?"  cried  the  hearty  voice  of  Wharton  Ken- 
drick, as  his  big  frame  filled  the  doorway  and  his 


70  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

ruddy  face  shone  in  the  light.  "Why,  shovels  and 
scissors,  gentlemen,  he  would  say  just  what  she  told 
him  to.  What's  it  about?" 

Miss  Kendrick  had  risen,  and  with  an  emphatic 
nod  of  the  head  at  this  indorsement  of  a  blank  check 
in  her  favor,  looked  at  us  steadily. 

"In  that  case,  we'd  best  be  going,"  said  Mr.  Bald- 
win. "Miss  Kendrick  can  explain  the  case  better 
than  we." 

"I  shall  expect  you  back  in  an  hour,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  VI 

BIG   SAM'S   DIPLOMACY 

We  walked  down  the  street  in  silence,  and  I  could 
feel  Mr.  Baldwin's  chilling  disapproval  of  our  er- 
rand radiating  from  him  at  every  step. 

"We  had  better  take  the  Clay  Street  car  down  to 
the  City  Hall,  and  get  a  hack  at  the  Plaza.,"  I  said  at 
last. 

"I  suppose  that  will  be  the  best  way,"  he  assented 
coldly.  "Since  we  are  in  for  this  unfortunate  busi- 
ness, the  less  notice  we  attract,  the  better." 

His  tone  roused  a  flash  of  temper  in  me,  and  I  re- 
plied tartly: 

"If  the  business  is  so  distasteful  to  you,  there  are 
plenty  of  streets  that  lead  in  the  other  direction." 

"Very  true,"  he  said  with  a  shrug.  But  his  steady 
footstep  told  me  that  he  had  no  thought  of  turning 
back.  We  fell  into  silence,  and  so  continued  until  we 
reached  the  Plaza. 

"What's  this?"  I  exclaimed,  for  at  the  corner  of 
Clay  and  Kearny  Streets  a  crowd  was  gathered,  and 
a  cheer,  or  rather  a  confusion  of  vocal  applause, 
broke  out  as  we  approached. 

A  man  mounted  on  a  cart  was  shouting  fiercely  to 
several  hundred  men  who  had  gathered  about  him, 
and  I  could  hear  such  words  as  "leprous  heathen," 

71 


72  THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

"cursed  Mongols,"  and  other  phrases  of  denuncia- 
tion roll  from  his  lips. 

I  looked  at  him  more  closely.  He  was  tall  and 
broad-shouldered,  and  his  coarse,  florid  features 
brought  in  a  flash  of  memory  the  scene  in  the  House 
of  Blazes  when  the  bleeding  policeman  had  been  res- 
cued from  his  hoodlum  assailants. 

"Why,  that's  Kearney !"  I  cried. 

"A  friend  of  yours?"  asked  Mr.  Baldwin  sarcas- 
tically. 

"I  met  him  once." 

"Perhaps  you'd  like  to  renew  your  acquaintance," 
said  Mr.  Baldwin,  as  we  paused  in  curiosity  on  the 
edge  of  the  crowd.  "He  seems  to  have  an  education 
in  classical  history." 

We  caught  some  reference  to  the  labor  troubles  of 
Rome,  and  the  fate  of  the  freeman  under  the  slave 
system  that  destroyed  the  ancient  republic. 

"I  hadn't  suspected  it  from  a  moment's  speech 
with  him,"  I  said.  "He  has  a  good  voice  for  this 
sort  of  work." 

The  crowd  again  broke  out  into  tumultuous  shouts 
at  some  bit  of  pleasing  denunciation. 

"Where  are  the  police  ?"  said  Mr.  Baldwin.  "They 
ought  to  stop  this." 

I  pointed  to  three  or  four  members  of  the  force 
who  were  standing  near  the  speaker,  apparently  in- 
different to  his  language. 

"That's  a  scandalous  neglect  of  duty,"  said  Mr. 
Baldwin.  "But  we  ha£  better  go  about  our  unfor- 
tunate errand." 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  73 

We  had  gone  but  two  steps,  however,  before  a 
hand  grasped  me  by  the  shoulder. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Hampden.  Glad  to  see  you  in- 
terested in  the  cause  of  the  people.  Welcome  to  our 
reception !" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Parks,  giving  boisterous  greet- 
ing as  he  shook  me  by  the  hand. 

"Isn't  he  great?"  he  continued  rapidly.  "What 
do  you  think  of  his  speech  ?" 

There  was  pride  of  authorship  in  his  inquiry,  and 
every  movement  testified  to  the  excitement  and 
pleasure  that  thrilled  him. 

"Is  this  your  first  performance?"  I  asked. 

"No,"  he  said.  "We've  been  trying  it  on  the  street 
corners  at  odd  times.  Now  we  are  ready  to  begin  in 
earnest.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"I  think  you  are  rash  to  begin  your  agitation  so 
near  the  police  station.  Your  man  will  probably  find 
himself  in  jail  before  he  gets  through  his  speech." 

"The  very  thing!"  said  Parks  explosively.  "The 
best  advertisement  we  could  have.  Here's  our 
motto:  'The  Chinese  must  go.'  You  can  see  it  stirs 
'em.  Listen  to  that  cheer.  What  could  rouse  the 
men  of  the  city  faster  than  to  have  Kearney  thrown 
into  jail  for  expressing  their  sentiments?  Sir,  if  you 
think  otherwise,  you  do  not  understand  the  people." 

Parks  gave  an  emphatic  shake  to  his  head  and  an- 
other to  his  warning  forefinger  that  was  held  before 
me,  and  the  wild  look  of  the  enthusiast  glowed  in 
his  face. 

"Doubtless  you  are  right,"  I  admitted.    "But  I 


74  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

must  keep  an  engagement  that  will  deprive  me  of  the 
privilege  of  listening  to  your  orator." 

"You  will  have  to  listen  to  him  some  day,"  said 
Parks,  shaking  his  finger  at  us  once  more.  "The  day 
of  the  people  is  coming." 

Mr.  Baldwin  had  been  watching  us  with  some  in- 
terest. 

"Your  friend  appears  to  be  very  much  in  earnest," 
he  said  as  we  went  our  way. 

"There's  a  man  who's  very  likely  to  be  hanged 
because  he  thinks  he  has  an  idea,"  I  replied. 

"I  should  say  he  was  more  likely  to  end  his  days 
in  the  violent  ward  at  Stockton,"  returned  Mr.  Bald- 
win. 

"Perhaps  you  are  the  better  guesser,"  I  admitted. 
"It  will  depend  on  his  opportunities." 

We  had  come  among  the  hackmen  at  the  other  end 
of  Portsmouth  Square,  and  I  picked  out  one  with 
courage  in  his  face  and  a  good  span  of  horses  to  his 
hack. 

"This  will  do,  I  think,"  I  said. 

"Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Baldwin,  stepping  into 
the  hack.  "Have  you  arranged  any  plan  of  proceed- 
ing? I  suppose  you  know  the  condition  of  affairs 
better  than  I."  This  last  an  evident  apology  for  de- 
ferring to  my  judgment. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  as  we  lurched  around  the  corner 
and  rolled  up  Washington  Street.  "You  had  better 
remain  with  the  hack  across  the  street  and  a  door  or 
two  from  Big  Sam's.  I  shall  run  up-stairs  and  tell 
him  our  plans.  If  he  approves  of  them  we  will  bring 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  75 

the  girl  down,  bundle  her  into  the  hack  and  get  her 
out  of  here  as  quick  as  the  fates  will  let  us." 

"You  are  certain  you  would  not  like  company 
when  you  go  up  the  stairs  to  see  Big  Sam?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Baldwin  carelessly. 

"I  don't  think  it  necessary,"  I  replied. 

"Are  you  armed  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  a  revolver." 

"Very  good.  I  have  nothing  but  a  penknife.  It  is 
hardly  customary  to  carry  firearms  when  making  a 
social  call." 

"I  do  not  make  a  habit  of  it,"  I  said  coldly.  "I  ex- 
pected to  come  here  to-night,'  and  I  did  not  foresee 
that  I  was  to  have  company." 

He  made  no  reply  to  this,  and  the  hack  drew  up 
near  Big  Sam's  door  as  I  had  directed. 

I  stepped  out  and  Mr.  Baldwin  followed. 

"I  think  you  had  better  remain  here,"  I  said. 

"Perhaps,"  he  replied.  "But  if  you  have  no  objec- 
tion I'll  stop  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  You  might 
have  occasion  to  call  to  me  and  I  should  hear  you 
better  there." 

"I  think  there  is  no  danger." 

"Big  Sam  is  not  as  scrupulous  as  you  may  think. 
It  has  been  said  that  men  have  gone  up  those  stairs 
who  never  came  down." 

I  remembered  Big  Sam's  judgment  hall,  and  the 
power  he  had  apparently  exercised  over  the  warring 
tongs,  and  thought  it  quite  likely  that  judgments  had 
been  executed  as  well  as  passed  within  its  walls. 

"Suit  yourself,"  I  said.  "But  as  you  are  not  armed 


76  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD' 

you  can  do  nothing  but  raise  an  alarm  if  the  need 
comes.  And  you  may  be  in  more  danger  than  I." 

"Perhaps  the  hackman  has  a  pistol,"  said  Mr. 
Baldwin  coolly.  "I  may  be  able  to  get  a  loan." 

The  hackman  proved  to  be  supplied  with  a  fire- 
arm and  he  surrendered  it  cheerfully  to  Mr.  Bald- 
win. 

"Oh,  the  place  has  a  bad  name,  but  I've  been 
through  it  for  tin  year  and  niver  fired  a  shot,"  said 
he,  laughing  at  the  apprehension  of  the  two  inno- 
cent strangers  he  supposed  us  to  be.  And  we  crossed 
the  street  and  opened  the  door  of  the  shop  that  made 
the  entrance  to  Big  Sam's  lodgings. 

Four  or  five  Chinese  lounged  about  the  place  and 
one  took  my  name  to  Big  Sam.  The  others  watched 
us  furtively,  and  one  made  some  comment  upon  us 
that  caused  his  companions  to  give  us  a  quick  look 
and  grim  smile. 

The  action  was  not  lost  on  Mr.  Baldwin. 

"Our  friend's  body-guard  do  not  seem  to  antici- 
pate the  same  ending  to  the  affair  that  you  do,  Mr. 
Hampden,"  said  he,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder. 

"I  do  not  suppose  they  are  in  his  confidence  in 
the  matter,"  said  I.  Then  as  the  messenger  re- 
turned with  word  that  I  was  to  "come  up,"  I  con- 
tinued :  "Keep  near  the  door  in  yonder  corner  where 
you  can  not  be  taken  from  behind.  If  anything  hap- 
pens, get  to  the  police  station  as  soon  as  you  can.  I 
shall  probably  be  back  inside  of  ten  minutes." 

Mr.  Baldwin  bowed  as  his  reply  to  this  injunction, 
and  spoke  affably  to  the  shopman  who  had  paused 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  77 

from  the  swift  reckoning  of  his  accounts  on  an 
abacus,  and  was  watching  us  furtively  with  the  inno- 
cent pretense  of  casting  up  sums  in  his  mind. 

I  mounted  the  rough  stairs  and  in  another  minute 
was  ushered  into  Big  Sam's  office. 

The  softer  lights  of  the  night  that  came  from  the 
gas-jets  brought  out  the  richness  of  the  apartment 
far  more  effectively  than  the  coarse  light  of  day. 
The  carvings  and  painted  ornaments  showed  to 
more  advantage,  and  the  colors  were  softened  into 
harmony  with  the  western  eye.  In  spite  of  the  pre- 
occupation of  my  errand,  I  could  not  repress  an  ex- 
clamation of  pleasure  at  the  sight. 

Big  Sam  sat  at  his  desk  as  he  had  sat  when  I  left 
him  in  the  morning,  and  looked  at  me  with  bland  im- 
passiveness. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Hampden,"  he  said  politely. 
"Can  I  serve  you  again  ?" 

"No,"  I  said,  a  little  taken  aback  at  this  greeting. 
"It  is  on  your  business  I  have  come." 

"And  your  companion  down-stairs?"  he  said, 
looking  at  me  out  of  half-closed  oriental  eyes. 

"He  may  be  of  service  in  case — " 

Big  Sam  raised  his  hand  to  check  my  speech  and 
spoke  in  Chinese.  At  his  words  there  was  the  soft 
sound  of  the  closing  of  a  door  somewhere  behind  the 
screens. 

"A  prudent  precaution,"  he  said.  "You  have 
found  a  place  for  the  girl  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied.  "I  must  say  I  do  not  fully  ap- 
prove of  what  I  am  going  to  do.  But  it  is  not  on 


78  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

account  of  your  ward.  Nothing  could  be  better  for 
her  than  what  I  have  to  offer." 

Then  I  explained  with  some  detail  the  plans  that 
had  been  approved  by  Miss  Kendrick.  He  listened 
with  studious  attention. 

"Miss  Kendrick  is  too  kind,"  said  Big  Sam  diplo- 
matically. "She  is  young,  I  believe?" 

I  bowed. 

"And  Miss  Fillmore  also  ?" 

I  bowed  again. 

"And  you  do  not  approve  ?" 

"I  do  not." 

"I  see  your  reasons.  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Do 
you  wish  to  abandon  the  girl  to  her  fate  ?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  But  with  more  time — " 

"There  is  no  more  time." 

"Not  to-morrow  ?" 

"The  tongs  are  even  now  in  session.  I  have  word 
that  before  morning  there  will  be  a  demand  for  the 
girl,  and  if  she  is  not  surrendered  there  will  be  the 
reward  of  blood." 

"You  are  more  powerful  than  they,"  said  I,  re- 
membering the  scene  of  the  morning. 

"I  have  passed  the  limits  of  my  power,"  said  Big 
Sam  placidly.  "What  is  it  you  say  of  Russia  ?  'Des- 
potism tempered  by  assassination?'  Well,  I  am  but 
little  of  a  despot,  and  the  assassin  has  so  much  the 
better  opportunity." 

"And  by  to-morrow  you  would  give  her  up?"  I 
asked. 

"To  be  frank  with  you,  I  would  give  her  up 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  79 

to-night,  Mr.  Hampden,  if  it  would  purchase  peace 
and  safety." 

I  looked  sharply  at  Big  Sam,  but  the  oriental  mask 
gave  back  the  record  of  nothing  but  bland  and  child- 
like simplicity. 

"Then  why  not  ?"  I  asked. 

"There  is  but  one  girl.  There  are  two  tongs," 
said  Big  Sam. 

"That  makes  a  difficulty,"  I  admitted.  "Yet  only 
one  tong  owns  the  girl." 

"I  fear  I  could  not  explain  to  you  the  attitude  and 
customs  of  the  tongs  in  this  matter,"  said  Big  Sam 
with  a  smile.  "One  tong  demands  the  delivery  of 
the  girl,  or  five  thousand  dollars.  That  is  the  one 
you  would  perhaps  call  the  owner  of  the  girl.  The 
other  demands  the  girl,  or  twenty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars." 

"Seventy-five  hundred  dollars  for  a  girl — that  is 
a  little  expensive." 

"I  believe  some  of  your  countrymen  have  paid 
more.  Though  the  bargain  has  not  been  made  in 
so  simple  a  fashion." 

Big  Sam  allowed  himself  to  smile. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  are  to  help  you  then,"  I  said. 
"But  if  you  think  it  will  put  the  tongs  in  better 
humor  to  have  the  girl  in  our  custody,  we  are  at  your 
service." 

"This  evening,"  said  Big  Sam,  "I  saw  three  dogs 
quarreling  over  a  bone.  A  fourth  dog  much  larger 
came  by  and  snatched  it.  The  three  dogs  ceased  to 
quarrel  and  started  in  chase  of  the  fourth." 


80  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"A  cheerful  augury,"  I  said.  "I  wish  no  quarrel 
with  assassins,  and  least  of  all  would  I  wish  to  bring 
them  upon  Mr.  Kendrick's  household." 

"The  fourth  dog,"  continued  Big  Sam,  "was 
larger — much  larger — than  the  three  put  together. 
They  ceased  the  chase  before  it  was  fairly  begun,  and 
joined  in  mourning  their  loss." 

"You  put  me  in  doubt,"  said  I.  "I  must  not  bring 
danger  to  others." 

"I  can  guarantee  their  safety,  Mr.  Hampden," 
said  Big  Sam.  "Your  police  have  impressed  it  thor- 
oughly on  the  minds  of  our  people  that  the  white 
race  is  not  to  be  meddled  with  by  any  but  white 
men." 

I  hesitated,  still  fearful  of  the  dangers  that  might 
follow  the  custody  of  the  girl. 

"There  is  then  no  resource  but  to  turn  the  girl 
into  the  street,"  said  Big  Sam  decisively.  "I  can  not 
risk  my  plans  merely  to  secure  her  safety." 

"Nor  your  life,"  I  retorted. 

"Oh,  a  man  will  die  when  he  dies.  Life,  death, 
riches,  poverty — they  are  man's  fate.  But  my  plans 
— they  are  much  to  me  and  my  people." 

Big  Sam  then  pulled  a  cord  that  swung  behind 
him.  The  door  opened  and  the  Chinese  girl,  fright- 
ened and  tearful,  was  pushed  in. 

"The  decision  is  for  you,  Mr.  Hampden,"  he  said. 

I  looked  upon  her  and  thought  what  the  decision 
meant  to  her. 

"Does  she  go  with  you,  or  with  the  tongs?"  he 
asked. 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  81 

"I  have  decided.  I  will  take  her,"  I  said  with  sud- 
den resolution. 

"On  the  conditions  I  mentioned  this  morning?" 

"It  is  late  to  bargain,"  said  I. 

"On  the  contrary,"  he  said,  "it  is  necessary.  It  is 
only  with  these  conditions  of  compromise  that  I  can 
hope  to  make  my  peace  with  the  tongs." 

"You  have  my  promise,"  I  said,  rising. 

"One  moment,"  said  Big  Sam.  "I  believe  you  are 
a  brave  man,  Mr.  Hampden." 

"I  really  don't  know,"  I  replied. 

"At  least  you  do  not  mind  hearing  a  few  revolver 
shots?" 

"Not  at  all." 

"They  will  serve  to  amuse  some  of  our  friends 
who  are  on  the  watch." 

The  implied  information  that  we  were  spied  upon 
by  sentinels  of  the  tongs  startled  me  for  a  moment, 
though  I  might  have  known  that  they  would  not 
neglect  so  obvious  a  precaution. 

"If  you  and  your  friend  wouldn't  mind  breaking 
a  window  and  smashing  something  and  firing  a  shot 
or  two  yourselves  and  making  a  good  deal  of  noise 
before  you  carry  off  the  girl,  it  would  oblige  me." 

"Why  should  we  attract  so  much  attention  ?  Is  it 
not  better  to  slip  out  quietly  ?" 

"Do  you  think  to  avoid  the  eyes  that  are  watch- 
ing?" said  Big  Sam.  "The  bold  course  is  the  best. 
We  make  sound  as  of  a  fight.  The  watchers  of  the 
two  tongs  will  each  believe  that  the  other  has  made 
an  attack.  They  will  hasten  to  the  meeting  places  to 


82  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

summon  help.  For  a  minute  the  road  will  be  clear. 
Then  you  must  run  for  it." 

This  was  more  of  an  enterprise  than  I  had  bar- 
gained for,  and  if  I  had  had  time  to  think  I  should 
have  got  out  of  Big  Sam's  net  and  left  him  to  carry 
out  his  plans  through  some  other  agency.  But  I  did 
not  stop  to  reflect  and  acted  at  the  urging  of  the 
wily  Oriental. 

"Take  the  girl,"  he  said,  and  spoke  to  her  in  brief 
command.  "My  men  will  assist  you  to  disturb  things 
down-stairs." 

I  picked  my  way  down  the  steps,  and  the  soft  clack 
of  the  Chinese  shoe  sounded  behind  me  as  the  girl 
followed.  Big  Sam  accompanied  me  to  the  lower 
floor,  and,  after  making  sure  that  our  hack  was 
where  we  had  left  it,  he  gave  orders  to  his  men.  I 
hastily  explained  the  situation  to  Mr.  Baldwin. 

"Ah — a  comedy  performance,"  he  said  with  af- 
fected carelessness.  But  I  could  see  that  he  cursed 
himself  for  a  fool  for  being  drawn  into  the  affair. 

"Draw  your  revolver,  but  don't  fire  more  than  one 
shot,"  I  said. 

Big  Sam  gave  a  shout,  and  in  an  instant  the  place 
was  filled  with  a  medley  of  voices  raised  in  tones  of 
anger  and  alarm.  A  table  was  overturned,  boxes 
were  flung  about,  cries  of  men  rose,  a  dozen  re- 
volver shots  followed  in  quick  succession,  a  woman's 
scream  pierced  the  air,  and  there  was  an  excellent 
imitation  of  a  highbinder  affray  on  a  small  scale.  I 
fired  one  shot  into  the  breast  of  a  mandarin,  whose 
painted  outlines  ornamented  a  chest,  and  providently 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  83 

reserved  the  rest  of  my  bullets  for  possible  need. 
Then  two  of  the  Chinese  lifted  a  heavy  box  and 
flung  it  at  the  closed  doors.  There  was  a  crash  of 
wood,  a  jingle  of  breaking  glass,  and  the  door  fell 
outward. 

"Well,  I  should  judge  it  was  time  to  go,"  said 
Mr.  Baldwin. 

"Come  on,"  I  said,  seizing  the  Chinese  girl.  And 
we  started  on  the  run  for  the  hack  as  the  lights  were 
extinguished. 

We  had  just  reached  it  when  two  or  three  more 
shots  were  fired  and  a  bullet  sang  uncomfortably 
close  to  my  head. 

"In  there,  quick!"  I  said  to  Mr.  Baldwin,  as  I 
lifted  the  girl  to  her  seat.  "This  place  is.  getting  too 
hot  for  us." 

"Aren't  you  coming  in?"  he  asked,  with  a  trace 
of  anxiety  in  his  tone. 

"No.  I'll  ride  with  the  driver."  I  slammed  the 
door  and  was  climbing  to  the  box  when  two  breath- 
less Chinese  ran  to  the  side  of  the  hack  and  wrenched 
open  the  door  with  angry  exclamations.  There  was 
a  howl  as  one  of  them  staggered  back  from  a  blow 
from  Mr.  Baldwin's  revolver.  I  gave  the  other  a 
kick  alongside  the  head  that  sent  him  in  a  heap  on 
his  fellow. 

It  was  all  done  in  a  second. 

"Now !"  I  said  to  the  driver ;  and  with  a  cut  at  his 
horses  we  dashed  away  as  cries  and  shouts  and 
sounds  of  police  whistles  began  to  rise  behind  us. 

As  we  lurched  around  the  corner  of  Sacramento 


84  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Street,  I  could  see  three  policemen  turning  into 
Waverly  Place  from  Clay  Street  and  hurrying  to 
the  scene  of  disturbance.  A  crowd  of  shouting  Chi- 
nese had  already  gathered  about  the  entrance  to  Big 
Sam's  store,  and  a  man  was  waving  his  arm  and 
pointing  after  us,  while  half  a  dozen  Chinese  had 
started  on  the  run  in  pursuit.  Then,  the  corner 
turned,  the  sight  was  shut  out,  and  we  went  down 
the  street  on  the  flying  gallop. 

We  slackened  speed  as  we  neared  Kearny  Street, 
for  a  policeman  stood  on  the  corner.  If  the  sounds 
of  battle  had  reached  him  he  must  certainly  have 
suspected  and  stopped  us.  But  if  he  heard  anything 
of  the  uproar  we  had  raised  he  had  doubtless  placed 
it  to  the  credit  of  the  leather-lunged  orator  and  his 
clamorous  hearers  who  held  forth  but  a  block  away. 
He  scarce  looked  at  us,  and  we  swung  into  Kearny 
Street  on  a  swift  trot,  and  were  soon  in  the  quiet 
precincts  of  the  shopping  district. 

The  hackman  had  been  silent,  heeding  only  my  di- 
rections ;  but  now  he  said : 

"I  don't  know  what  you've  been  a-doin',  an'  it's 
none  of  my  business.  But  I'll  want  pay  for  this 
night's  work." 

"Make  yourself  easy,"  I  replied.  "We've  done 
nothing  against  the  law." 

"Oh,  it's  not  the  law  I'm  botherin'  about.  There's 
little  law  for  a  Chaynese ;  an'  it's  not  me  that  would 
be  hollerin'  murther  if  you've  sent  a  dozen  of  'em 
to  sup  with  the  divil  to-night.  But  you  might  have 
damaged  the  hack,  an'  ye'll  pay  for  that." 


BIG    SAM'S    DIPLOMACY  85 

I  promised  him  a  liberal  reward,  and  we  rolled 
rapidly  out  Sutler  Street  to  Van  Ness  Avenue,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  more  had  drawn  up  before  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick's  house. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin  as  I  opened  the 
door  to  the  hack,  "that  our  charge  is  hurt.  She  has 
been  groaning  for  a  while,  and  now  I  think  she  has 
fainted." 

My  nerves  had  served  me  without  flinching 
through  the  dangers  of  the  escape.  But  at  the  ap- 
prehension that  all  our  efforts  had  been  in  vain,  and 
that  death,  not  we,  had  been  the  rescuer,  I  fell 
a-trembling. 

"I  hope  not,"  I  cried.  "Perhaps  she  is  only  scared. 
Let  us  carry  her  into  the  house." 

As  I  put  my  hand  to  the  girl,  however,  my  fears 
received  a  fresh  provocation,  for  the  back  of  her 
dress  was  wet  with  the  sticky  wetness  of  coagulating 
blood.  We  lifted  her  between  us,  and  carried  her  up 
the  steps.  We  had  scarce  reached  the  upper  landing 
when  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  Miss  Kendrick 
peered  out. 

"Have  you  brought  her?"  she  cried. 

"She  is  here,"  I  replied,  "but—" 

"Oh,  what  is  the  matter?"  interrupted  Miss  Ken- 
drick in  a  voice  of  alarm,  as  she  saw  that  we  car- 
ried a  senseless  burden. 

"She  is  hurt,"  I  explained  as  we  laid  our  charge 
down  upon  a  hall  seat.  "There  was  a  row  over  her, 
and  she  got  one  of  the  bullets  that  was  meant  for 
us." 


86  THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

Miss  Kendrick  grew  white,  and  I  looked  to  see  her 
follow  the  Chinese  girl  by  falling  in  a  faint.  But 
her  small  figure  straightened  as  though  in  rebound 
from  a  physical  shock,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  di- 
recting servants  to  carry  the  girl  to  the  room  that 
had  been  prepared  for  her,  ordering  hot  water,  hot 
blankets,  lint  and  bandages,  and  sending  me  on  the 
run  for  the  nearest  doctor. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  THE   CURRENT 

The  Chinese  girl's  wound  proved  a  desperate  mat- 
ter, and  for  days  she  hung  between  life  and  death, 
dependent  for  the  flickering  vital  spark  upon  the 
ceaseless  ministrations  of  her  self-appointed  nurses. 
Mercy  Fillmore  was  brought  to  the  house  by  Mr. 
Baldwin  at  an  early  hour  of  the  morning  that  fol- 
lowed the  rescue,  and  took  her  place  as  naturally  and 
unostentatiously  as  though  she  had  always  been  one 
of  the  family. 

"She's  a  thousand  times  lovelier  than  I  had  ex- 
pected," confessed  Laura  Kendrick,  "and  when  you 
see  her  you're  to  be  very  nice  to  her.  I'm  sure  you 
owe  her  that  much,  after  making  her  all  this  trouble." 

I  promised  to  use  all  gentleness  and  courtesy  to- 
ward Miss  Fillmore,  but  the  full  significance  of  my 
debt  to  the  young  lady  did  not  appear  to  me  till  later. 
Eventually  I  found  that  by  some  inexplicable  freak 
of  logic  I  was  supposed  to  be  chiefly  in  fault  for  the 
Chinese  girl's  wound.  I  had  bungled  the  enterprise, 
it  seemed;  otherwise  she  must  have  been  brought 
safely  off.  The  sense  of  my  delinquency  was  finally 
stirred  within  me  by  overhearing  the  comment  of 
two  indignant  servants,  which  ran  something  like 
this: 

87 


88  THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

"Those  two  big  men  without  ever  a  scratch  on 
them,  and  that  poor  heathen  creature  bleeding  to 
death  between  'em — that's  what  I  call  a  shame." 

Below  stairs,  it  thus  appeared  that  I  shared  equally 
with  Mr.  Baldwin  in  the  discredit  of  the  outcome. 
In  my  lady's  chamber  it  was  different.  I  learned  that 
in  those  sacred  realms  I  had  all  the  blame  for  my 
very  own.  Mr.  Baldwin  appeared  to  be  regarded, 
like  the  gallant  army  of  Bazaine  or  Mack,  as  merely 
the  unfortunate  victim  of  an  incompetent  leader. 
Nothing  of  this  judgment  came  to  me  directly.  But 
it  was  conveyed  delicately,  imperceptibly,  intangibly, 
through  the  days  when  the  girl's  life  hung  in  sus- 
pense, mingled  with  an  unspoken  assurance  that  as 
I  didn't  appear  to  know  any  better  I  should  ulti- 
mately be  forgiven. 

All  this  was  galling  enough,  but  it  was  nothing 
compared  to  the  afflictions  I  suffered  from  the  sight 
of  Mr.  Baldwin's  airs.  He  was  possessed  of  a  cold 
and  haughty  nature,  but  the  situation  roused  in  him 
something  approaching  an  enthusiasm.  For  my  sor- 
row he  was  endowed  with  an  odious  gift  of  compe- 
tency, and  no  false  modesty  restrained  him  from 
exhibiting  it  to  the  fullest  measure.  Whenever  I 
offered  to  perform  a  service,  I  found  that  he  had 
already  performed  it,  or  was  then  engaged  upon  it, 
or  was  just  about  to  perform  it,  until  I  was  con- 
sumed with  regret  that  the  highbinder  bullet  had  not 
found  its  billet  with  Mr.  Baldwin,  instead  of  with 
the  Chinese  girl. 

I  should  not  go  so  far  as  to  assert  that  any  one  of 


IN   THE    CURRENT  89 

the  self-sufficiency  of  Mr.  Baldwin  would  be  at  a 
loss  for  an  excuse  for  following  his  own  inclina- 
tions; yet  it  struck  me  that  he  carried  the  pretense 
of  devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  Chinese  girl  to 
an  extent  altogether  indecorous.  The  prosperity  of 
the  firm  of  Hunter,  Fessenden  and  Baldwin  had 
never  before  appealed  to  my  fears  or  my  sympathies, 
but  I  was  at  this  period  distressed  to  observe  that  its 
law  business  appeared  to  be  at  a  low  ebb.  Either 
that,  or  the  junior  partner  was  grossly  neglecting 
his  duties.  Whatever  time  of  day  or  night  I  called 
at  the  Kendrick  house  to  seek  news  of  the  Chinese 
girl,  and  incidentally  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the 
ladies,  I  was  sure  to  find  Mr.  Baldwin  there,  or  to 
learn  that  he  had  just  gone  or  was  presently  ex- 
pected, until  I  grew  to  resent  the  sound  of  his  name. 
Furthermore,  his  air  of  proprietorship  in  Laura 
Kendrick  and  her  affairs,  which  had  disturbed  me  on 
our  first  meeting,  appeared  to  grow  more  marked. 
If  Miss  Kendrick,  her  uncle,  and  all  things  beneath 
the  roof  had  been  turned  over  to  him  in  fee  simple, 
the  sense  of  ownership  could  not  have  been  shown 
more  clearly  in  his  manner.  And,  worst  of  all,  I 
could  not  see  that  his  attitude  roused  resentment  in 
any  breast  but  my  own.  Miss  Kendrick  smiled  on 
him,  called  him  by  his  first  name,  and  discussed  the 
theory  and  practice  of  surgery  with  him  in  a  manner 
most  confidential. 

At  this  day  I  can  confess  with  freedom  that  my 
dislike  of  Mr.  Baldwin  found  its  root  in  the  fertile 
soil  of  jealousy  and  envy.  At  the  time,  however,  I 


90  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

stoutly  maintained  to  myself  that  I  hated  him  for  his 
faults  alone.  In  the  light  of  later  experience,  I  am 
willing  to  concede  that  men  are  not  hated  for  their 
faults,  or  even  for  their  virtues.  Had  Mr.  Baldwin 
been  an  angel  of  light,  instead  of  a  cold  and  super- 
cilious young  attorney  who  was  receiving  an  unde- 
served amount  of  favor,  I  should  have  disliked  him 
none  the  less  heartily. 

Mr.  Baldwin  returned  my  dislike  with  acridity. 
Whenever  possible,  he  affected  to  have  forgotten 
me,  had  to  be  assisted  to  my  name  when  compelled 
to  speak  to  me ;  and  when  he  did  decide  to  remember 
me,  was  so  patronizing  in  his  condescensions  that 
I  longed  to  throw  him  through  the  window. 

Miss  Kendrick  was  not  long  in  discovering  this 
suppressed  hostility;  and  at  first  alarmed  by  it,  she 
presently  found  it  a  source  of  amusement.  Then  she 
appeared  to  derive  a  certain  pleasure  in  blowing  the 
smoldering  coals  into  a  blaze;  for  she  would,  with 
the  most  innocent  air  imaginable,  bring  forward 
topics  of  discussion  that  served  to  range  us  in  hostile 
argument.  As  we  held  opposite  views  on  almost 
every  question  of  politics,  law,  sociology,  and  the 
arts,  she  had  usually  more  difficulty  to  close  the  ar- 
gument than  to  inspire  it.  Yet  she  handled  the  situa- 
tion with  a  skill  that  would  have  been  the  admiration 
of  a  diplomat,  and  had  a  tact  in  diversion  that  en- 
abled us  both  to  retire  from  the  heat  of  battle  in 
good  order  with  the  conviction  that  we  had  each 
won  a  substantial  victory. 

In  the  anxious  days  through  which  the  Chinese 


IN    THE    CURRENT  91 

girl's  life  hung  by  a  thread,  I  learned  that  Laura 
Kendrick's  characterization  of  Mercy  Fillmore  was 
no  example  of  feminine  exaggeration.  Miss  Fill- 
more  proved  to  be  a  young  woman  of  about  twenty- 
five,  a  little  above  the  average  height,  a  little  fuller 
in  outline  than  was  demanded  by  the  rules  of  pro- 
portion, a  little  slow  in  her  movements.  Her  face 
was  round,  and  though  lacking  in  color  gave  a  dis- 
tinct impression  of  prettiness.  But  her  chief  charac- 
teristic was  a  certain  calm  sweetness  in  expression 
and  manner,  a  certain  gentle  tact  that  made  her  pres- 
ence as  soothing  as  a  strain  of  sweet  music.  It  was 
on  the  evening  following  the  rescue  that  Miss  Ken- 
drick  introduced  us. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you,"  she  said  in  a  voice  that 
was  low  and  melodious.  "I  am  glad  to  find  a  man 
who  is  not  afraid  to  do  the  right  thing  because  some- 
body is  going  to  laugh  at  him." 

Miss  Fillmore  gave  me  her  hand,  and  I  found  that 
her  touch  had  the  same  soothing  quality  that  was 
manifest  in  her  voice  and  presence. 

I  professed  myself  gratified  at  her  approval,  and 
murmured  that  any  one  would  have  done  the  same  in 
the  circumstances. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Fillmore  earnestly.  "It 
isn't  every  one  who  would  have  followed  Mr.  Bald- 
win to  that  den  and  risked  his  life  to  rescue  a  poor 
Chinese  slave  girl." 

Mr.  Baldwin's  part  in  the  affair  had  evidently 
lost  nothing  in  Mr.  Baldwin's  telling  of  it,  and  Miss 
Fillmore's  imagination  had  filled  out  the  blanks  in 


92  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

his  narrative  in  a  way  to  make  him  the  promoter  of 
the  enterprise. 

He  was  quick  to  see  the  peril  of  his  situation,  and 
said  stiffly : 

"Oh,  if  there's  any  credit  to  the  affair,  it  belongs 
to  Mr.  Hampden  alone.  He  discovered  the  dis- 
tressed damsel,  and  is  entitled  to  all  the  rewards." 

Laura  Kendrick  gave  him  a  pleased  look  and  a 
gracious  nod,  which  afflicted  me  with  a  pang  of  un- 
warranted resentment. 

"I  claim  all  the  credit  myself,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  air  of  importance.  "I  seem  to  remember  two 
rather  reluctant  knights  who  were  anything  but 
pleased  to  be  sent  out  to  storm  the  ogre's  castle  at 
the  call  of  beauty  in  distress." 

"It  was  well  done,  whoever  was  responsible  for 
it,"  said  Miss  Fillmore  gently.  "It  is  a  noble  thing 
to  have  rescued  Moon  Ying." 

"Moon  Ying!"  cried  Mr.  Baldwin.  "Is  that  the 
creature's  name?" 

"I  never  thought  to  ask  it,"  I  said. 

"So  like  a  man !"  sighed  Miss  Kendrick. 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me,"  said  Mercy  Fillmore, 
"how  you  came  to  find  Moon  Ying,  and  be  inter- 
ested in  her.  How  long  have  you  known  her  ?" 

"She's  a  very  recent  acquaintance.  I  first  saw  her 
yesterday  morning."  And  then  I  gave  in  detail  the 
story  of  my  visit  to  Chinatown,  and  the  adventures 
that  came  of  it. 

"And  that  is  all  you  know  about  her?"  asked  Miss 
Fillmore,  in  a  voice  that  imported  disappointment. 


IN    THE    CURRENT  93 

"I  had  hoped  that  you  knew  more.  She  is  so  much 
above  the  type  of  Chinese  girls  that  we  meet  at  the 
Mission  that  she  has  interested  me  particularly." 

"Big  Sam  gave  me  the  idea  that  except  for  her 
beauty,  which  I  understand  to  be  of  a  sort  highly 
considered  among  her  countrymen,  she  is  not  above 
the  girls  you  find  at  the  Mission." 

"Well,  then,  it's  only  another  romance  spoiled," 
said  Miss  Fillmore. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  despair.  Big  Sam  appeared  to 
be  dealing  frankly  with  me,  but  that  proves  nothing. 
Big  Sam  is  an  accomplished  diplomat  and  would 
tell  any  story  that  suited  his  purpose,  and  tell  it  so 
neatly  that  you  couldn't  distinguish  it  from  the 
truth.  For  all  I  know,  she  may  be  the  daughter  of 
the  Empress  of  China." 

"Nothing  so  interesting,  I  fear,"  said  Miss  Fill- 
more,  with  a  sober  shake  of  the  head. 

"Well,  then,  let's  make  believe.  She  shall  be  a 
princess  of  the  blood  royal,  and  shall  have  a  story 
suited  to  her  dignity." 

Miss  Fillmore  smiled  dubiously,  as  though  she 
were  not  quite  certain  whether  I  was  in  jest  or 
earnest. 

"It  isn't  necessary,"  she  said,  her  practical  mind 
refusing  to  descend  to  frivolity.  "Whatever  her 
origin,  we  must  see  that  she  has  a  better  fate  than 
the  one  that  threatens  her." 

"Yes,  so  far  as  it  can  be  done  within  the  condi- 
tions laid  down  by  Big  Sam." 

Miss  Fillmore' s  forehead  drew  into  a  knot  of  lines 


94  THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

in  which  could  be  read  a  mingling  of  disapproval 
and  anxiety. 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  she  said,  with  an  apolo- 
getic reproach  in  her  voice,  "that  you  didn't  do  quite 
right  to  make  those  conditions.  Can't  they  be — "  she 
was  going  to  say  "evaded"  but  after  a  moment's  de- 
bate with  a  feminine  conscience  changed  it  to  "modi- 
fied." 

"I'm  afraid  I  didn't  make  myself  clear,"  I  said. 
"Those  were  the  only  conditions  on  which  the  girl 
could  have  the  opportunity  to  escape.  Unless  Big 
Sam  can  arrange  better  terms  with  the  tongs,  we 
have  no  choice  but  to  live  up  to  them." 

Miss  Fillmore  was  silent  at  this,  and  I  wondered 
whether  I  had  not,  on  my  side,  given  too  strong  an 
emphasis  to  the  reminder  that  we  were  discussing  a 
question  of  good  faith. 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Kendrick  with  decision,  "we'll 
leave  all  that  till  Moon  Ying  is  quite  well,  and  then 
I'll  see  Big  Sam  and  the  highbinders  myself,  if  Mr. 
Hampden  can't  get  them  to  listen  to  decency  and 
reason." 

"Good  heavens!"  cried  Mr.  Baldwin,  with  chill- 
ing protest  in  his  tone.  "You  surely  can't  mean  to 
do  anything  of  that  sort.  You  don't  suppose  that 
those  creatures  are  open  to  reason  and  decency,  do 
you?" 

"Oh,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Kendrick,  straightening 
her  small  figure  and  tip-tilting  her  small  nose,  "I 
consider  Big  Sam  an  interesting  man,  and  I'm  sure 
I  should  like  to  talk  with  him.  And  as  for  reason, 


IN    THE    CURRENT  95 

I  have  no  doubt  he's  quite  as  open  to  conviction  as 
the  rest  of  his  sex.  I  shan't  have  the  slightest 
hesitation  in  appealing  to  him,  o^  even  to  those  ex- 
plosive highbinders,  if  it's  necessary  to  Moon  Ying's 
interests." 

"Why,  my  dear  young  lady,"  protested  Mr.  Bald- 
win in  his  most  superior  manner,  "you  surely  can't 
be  thinking  of  going  down  to  Chinatown  and  talk- 
ing to  those  fellows.  It's  altogether  absurd." 

"Well,  if  you  consider  it  absurd  to  try  to  save  a 
girl's  life  or  happiness,  I  don't,"  said  Miss  Kendrick 
tartly.  And  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  Mr.  Baldwin 
sat  under  a  cloud,  and  I  enjoyed  a  brief  period  of 
sunshine. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   CONTRIBUTION    TO   THE   CAUSE 

I  confess  that,  despite  all  discouragements,  I  spent 
as  much  time  as  I  could  spare  from  my  duties  in 
haunting  the  Kendrick  house ;  yet  I  found  the  pursuit 
of  Peter  Bolton,  and  the  oversight  of  the  Council  of 
Nine,  a  more  exacting  task  than  I  had  expected. 

On  Peter  Bolton's  ultimate  purposes  I  could  se- 
cure no  direct  light  whatever.  For  the  time  he  ap- 
peared to  have  suspended  relations  with  the  Council 
of  Nine,  yet  his  activities  in  conferring  with  bankers, 
brokers,  merchants,  lawyers,  and  men  of  no  classifi- 
cation, were  so  various  and  bewildering  that  I  was 
compelled  to  keep  watch  in  many  directions.  Twice 
Parks  and  Waldorf,  the  president  of  the  Council  of 
Nine,  visited  his  office,  and  were  turned  away  with- 
out seeing  him,  though  on  at  least  one  of  these  visits 
he  was  within.  His  plans  appeared  to  have  taken  an- 
other direction  than  the  schemes  of  the  Council,  yet 
there  was  nothing  in  his  movements  that  revealed 
whatever  designs  he  might  have  against  Wharton 
Kendrick's  property  or  life. 

Nevertheless  I  took  the  precaution  to  station  a 
number  of  watchmen  about  Wharton  Kendrick's 
house,  masqueraded  as  gardeners  and  stable-men. 
The  episode  of  the  spy  had  shown  plainly  that  Peter 

96 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  CAUSE    97 

Bolton's  emissaries  had  no  scruples  about  invading 
the  premises.  Furthermore,  Big  Sam's  assurance 
that  the  highbinders  would  never  dare  to  attack  the 
white  man's  place,  confirmed  as  it  was  by  the  history 
of  San  Francisco's  Chinese  population,  did  not  jus- 
tify me  in  neglecting  precautions.  Even  a  highbinder 
might  have  an  exception  to  his  rules,  especially  when 
more  than  one  tong  was  interested  in  the  recovery  of 
Moon  Ying.  Therefore  I  kept  two  men  on  guard  in 
the  daytime  and  four  at  night. 

One  effect  of  Peter  Bolton's  activities  was  easy  to 
discover.  His  contribution  to  the  cause  had  inspired 
a  marvelous  activity  among  the  agents  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Nine.  Clubs  were  organized,  a  few  for  the 
propagation  of  radical  ideas,  but  most  of  them  for 
the  ostensible  purpose  of  driving  the  Chinese  from 
the  city.  The  intent  of  the  Council  was  to  make  the 
revolutionary  clubs  the  main  strength  of  their  or- 
ganization, but  it  soon  became  evident  that  the  anti- 
Chinese  movement  had  outrun  their  plans.  "The 
Chinese  Must  Go,"  was  so  popular  a  cry  that  it  was 
taken  up  by  elements  over  which  the  Council  had 
no  control.  But  outwardly  the  Council  was  pros- 
pering, and  the  meetings  inaugurated  by  Parks  and 
Kearney  down  by  the  Old  City  Hall  soon  attracted 
such  crowds  that  they  were  encouraged  to  seek  a 
larger  forum  on  the  sand-lots  by  the  New  City  Hall. 
The  plans  for  driving  out  the  Chinese  were  seized 
upon  eagerly  by  the  thousands  of  unemployed  work- 
men, as  well  as  by  the  disorderly  elements  of  the 
city's  population.  Multitudes  attended  the  meetings 


98  THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

that  were  held  nightly  and  on  Sundays,  and  sporadic 
outbreaks  of  hoodlums,  who  beat  Chinamen  and 
plundered  wash-houses,  were  frequently  reported. 
The  newspapers  began  to  pay  attention  to  the  meet- 
ings, and  as  a  genuine  interest  was  shown  in  them 
by  the  working-men  of  the  city,  there  was  soon  a  hot 
rivalry  to  see  which  paper  should  attract  the  largest 
sales  by  the  fullest  accounts  of  the  speeches  and 
the  most  extended  reports  of  the  growth  of  the 
anti-Chinese  propaganda.  Under  the  stimulus  of 
publicity  the  movement  spread  with  startling  rapid- 
ity, the  politicians  began  to  count  upon  it  as  a  force 
to  be  reckoned  with,  and  serious-minded  citizens 
were  shaking  their  heads  over  the  possibilities  of  dis- 
order that  it  covered. 

These  possibilities  were  increased  by  the  threaten- 
ing condition  of  affairs  in  the  eastern  States.  There 
was  a  rapidly  increasing  tension  in  the  relations  be- 
tween capital  and  labor,  and  a  railroad  strike  was 
organizing  that  would  paralyze  industry  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Mississippi.  It  was  felt  that  the 
spark  of  Eastern  example  might  furnish  the  torch 
for  San  Francisco. 

With  matters  in  this  state,  Clark  came  to  me  one 
day  with  every  mark  of  perturbation  and  alarm. 

"The  Council  of  Nine  is  in  funds,"  he  gasped. 

"That's  an  enviable  situation,"  I  replied.  "Where 
did  they  get  them,  and  what  are  they  going  to  do 
with  them  ?  Hold  a  smoker  at  the  House  of  Blazes  ?" 

Clark  looked  a  little  vexed  at  the  bantering  tone. 

"They've  bought  guns  with  them,  sir," 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  CAUSE    99 

"Bought  guns?"  I  said.  "How  many?  A  dozen?" 

"Guess  again,"  said  Clark,  with  an  aggrieved  air 
at  my  declination  to  take  his  information  seriously. 
"If  you'd  say  a  thousand  you'd  come  nearer  to  it." 

"A  thousand !"  I  cried,  rousing  at  last  to  the  grav- 
ity of  his  information.  "How  could  they  do  that?" 

"Easy  enough,"  said  Clark.  "They  got  thirty 
thousand  dollars  night  before  last,  and  yesterday 
they  cleaned  out  all  the  gun  stores  in  town." 

"Thirty  thousand  dollars !"  I  exclaimed.  "Whew ! 
Is  this  old  Bolton's  second  contribution  ?" 

"I  reckon  he's  the  one  that  give  it,"  said  Clark, 
"but  I  can't  be  sure.  There  ain't  any  one  else  with 
that  much  money  that's  interested  in  the  cause. 
Habernicht  was  trying  to  tell  me  that  it  came  from 
the  International  Treasury,  but  I'm  willing  to  bet  my 
boots  that  the  International  Treasury  never  had 
thirty  thousand  cents  in  it,  let  alone  thirty  thousand 
dollars." 

It  was  Peter  Bolton,  beyond  doubt,  who  had  taken 
the  role  of  fairy  godfather  for  the  Council  of  Nine, 
and  I  raked  my  imagination  in  vain  to  conceive  the 
purpose  that  had  inspired  this  amazing  generosity. 

"I  reckon,"  continued  Clark,  "that  they've  got  a 
corner  on  everything  that'll  shoot,  except  what's  in 
the  arsenals,  and  they're  counting  on  getting  those 
when  the  time  comes  to  rise." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "I  don't  see  just  how  this  affects 
Colonel  Kendrick,  for  they  could  get  him  with  one 
rifle  just  as  well  as  with  a  thousand.  But  whatever 
the  game  is,  we  can  block  it  right  now.  Just  give  me 


ioo         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

the  number  of  the  building  where  they  have  stored 
those  guns,  and  I'll  see  the  Chief  of  Police." 

"Good  God!"  cried  Clark,  seizing  my  arm.  "Do 
you  want  to  get  me  killed  ?" 

"Why,"  I  argued,  "you  aren't  the  only  man  who 
knows  about  them.  There  must  be  dozens  if  not 
hundreds  of  men  in  the  scheme,  and  there  would  be 
no  more  reason  to  put  the  blame  on  you  than  on  the 
others." 

Clark  shook  his  head,  and  his  white  face  showed 
the  fierce  grip  of  terror. 

"I'm  a  dead  man  if  you  go  to  the  police,"  he  said 
huskily,  gulping  down  the  lump  that  rose  in  his  dry 
throat.  And  no  repetition  or  variation  of  my  argu- 
ment could  move  him.  So  at  last  I  promised  to  keep 
the  information  from  the  police,  and  sought  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick's  office  to  lay  this  perplexing  informa- 
tion before  my  client. 

Kendrick  was  not  at  his  desk. 

"He  went  out  some  time  ago,  Mr.  Hampden," 
said  a  clerk. 

"Where  would  I  be  likely  to  find  him  ?  It's  quite 
important." 

"He  didn't  say,  and  I  got  the  idea  that  he  wasn't 
likely  to  be  back  to-day." 

I  wrote  a  note  giving  information  of  the  arma- 
ment, and  leaving  it  on  his  desk,  turned  to  go,  when 
the  door  opened  and  General  Wilson  bustled  in.  His 
round  red  face  glowed  in  the  frame  of  his  short, 
yellow-gray  side-whiskers  even  more  fiercely  by 
day  than  by  night,  and  his  self-importance  was  even 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  CAUSE  101 

more  scintillant  than  when  he  had  bustled  into  Ken- 
drick's  library. 

"What!  Kendrick  not  in?"  he  cried  explosively. 
"Why,  I  don't  see  how  you  San  Franciscans  do  any 
business.  I  haven't  found  a  man  in  his  office  this 
morning.  Why,  God  bless  me,  is  this  you,  Ham — 
Hamfer— " 

"Hampden,"  I  said,  assisting  him  to  the  name. 
"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  General  Wilson." 

"Exactly — Hampden — Hampden,"  said  the  gen- 
eral, shaking  hands.  "I  never  forget  a  name  or  a 
face.  It's  a  trick  you  ought  to  cultivate,  my  boy. 
You'll  find  it  of  more  importance  than  half  your 
legal  learning,  when  it  comes  to  the  practical  busi- 
ness of  the  law.  There's  nothing  better  in  managing 
clients  and  jurors  and  court  officials.  It's  likely  to  be 
worth  anything  to  you  to  come  on  a  man  you  haven't 
met  for  twenty  years  and  call  him  by  his  name.  The 
beggar  always  beams  with  satisfaction — thinks 
you've  been  doing  nothing  all  those  years  but  carry 
his  name  and  face  in  your  mind,  and  is  ready  to  do 
you  a  good  turn  if  it  comes  his  way." 

"Very  true,"  I  said,  as  General  Wilson  paused  for 
breath. 

"Now  I  remember,"  he  continued,  with  a  wave 
of  his  arm,  "that  I  won  one  of  my  hardest  fought 
cases  by  that  little  talent  of  being  able  to  call  a  man's 
name  after  I  have  once  heard  it.  'Twas  when  the 
Rockland  and  Western  was  suing  the  R.  D.  &  G. 
about  the  right  of  way  into  St.  Louis.  The  matter 
was  worth  a  trifle  of  two  or  three  million  dollars, 


102          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

and  we  had  a  jury  trial,  and  it  was  a  damned  ticklish 
business.  'It's  two  to  one  on  the  other  side/  said  the 
president  of  the  Rockland  and  Western,  'and  if  you 
pull  us  out,  Wilson,  you're  a  wonder/  'God  knows 
what  a  jury  will  do,'  I  told  him,  'but  if  it's  in  the 
power  of  mortal  man  I'll  get  you  out  with  honors.' 
I  talked  to  cheer  him  up,  but  I  didn't  feel  half  as 
hopeful  as  I  let  on  to  be.  My  unprofessional  opinion 
was  that  we  were  in  for  a  licking.  I'll  bet  you  the 
price  of  this  building,  Hampden,  that  we  would  have 
had  to  take  our  medicine  if  it  hadn't  been  for  an  old 
acquaintance  of  mine.  I  used  to  know  him  when  we 
were  young  fellows  in  Ohio.  He  was  clerking  in  a 
grocery  store  while  I  was  dusting  the  books  in  Law- 
yer Boker's  office.  Now,  what  was  his  name?  Oh, 
— ah — yes,  I  remember — Westlake,  or  something 
like  that.  Well,  as  he  came  into  the  court,  I  saw  him, 
and  by  the  look  on  his  face  I  was  sure  he  was  called 
in  the  case.  I  knew  him  in  an  instant  and  I  hurried 
up  to  him,  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  said  'West- 
burn' — yes,  it  was  Westburn,  not  Westlake — I  said 
'Westburn,  God  bless  you,  it's  thirty-five  years  since 
the  night  we  dropped  that  watermelon,  and  I  haven't 
got  over  mourning  the  loss  of  it  yet.'  By  Jove, 
Hampden,  you  ought  to  have  seen  the  fellow  beam 
to  think  that  the  big  lawyer  from  Chicago  had  re- 
membered him  all  that  time,  and  we  had  a  five-min- 
ute chat  that  turned  out  to  be  worth  everything  to 
my  clients.  He  got  on  the  jury,  and  there  wasn't  a 
point  or  an  argument  I  made  that  was  lost  on  him. 
He  told  me  afterward  that  he  never  heard  a  speech 


A  CONTRIBUTION  TO  THE  CAUSE  103 

to  beat  the  one  I  delivered  in  closing  for  my  side. 
Well,  the  jury  was  out  nearly  two  days,  but  on  the 
strength  of  that  speech  my  old  friend  talked  the  last 
of  them  over  and  we  got  judgment.  So  there,  my 
boy,  you  see  what  it's  worth  to  call  up  names.  It's 
one  of  the  tricks  of  trade  that  we  share  with  states- 
men and  kings." 

"And  hotel  clerks,"  I  added  irreverently,  with 
something  of  envy  for  the  general's  talent  at  finding 
cause  for  self-congratulation. 

General  Wilson  flushed  a  little  deeper  red,  and 
looked  at  me  doubtingly.  I  hastened  to  add  an  ex- 
pression of  complete  agreement  with  the  conclusions 
he  had  announced. 

"Well,  God  bless  us,"  he  cried,  "I  can't  be  waiting 
here  all  day  for  Kendrick.  I  want  to  talk  over  that 
tule  land  proposition  with  him,  but  as  he  isn't  here 
I'm  going  over  to  talk  on  the  same  business  with  a 
miserly  old  curmudgeon  named  Bolton.  As  it  con- 
cerns Kendrick,  in  a  way,  maybe  you'd  like  to  come 
along  as  his  representative."  And  with  a  command- 
ing gesture  General  Wilson  intimated  his  desire  for 
my  company,  and  linked  arms  with  me  in  the  affecta- 
tion of  deepest  confidence. 

I  had  for  several  days  been  meditating  on  the 
problem  of  an  interview  with  Peter  Bolton,  and,  ac- 
cepting General  Wilson's  offer  of  a  convoy  as  a  gift 
of  benignant  chance,  was  soon  climbing  the  stair  to 
the  curmudgeon's  office  to  the  boom-boom  of  Gen- 
eral Wilson's  gasconades,  and  wondering  how  I 
might  surprise  the  secret  of  Peter  Bolton's  plans. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PETER   BOLTON 

Peter  Bolton's  office  conformed  to  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  art.  It  supplied  an  appropriate  frame  for 
Peter  Bolton  himself.  The  outer  room  presented  to 
the  eye  of  the  visitor  four  bare  and  grimy  walls  that 
had  once  been  white,  a  bare  and  worn  board  floor, 
two  kitchen  chairs  and  a  rickety  desk.  There  was, 
however,  nothing  shrinking  or  apologetic  about  this 
meager  display  of  furnishing.  It  smacked  not  of 
poverty,  but  of  an  inclement  disposition  in  its  owner. 
In  the  inner  room  the  walls  and  floor  were  as  bare 
and  grimy  as  those  of  the  outer  office,  but  the  fur- 
nishing was  a  little  less  disregardful  of  personal 
comfort,  for  it  held  five  solid  chairs,  a  solid  safe 
that  made  a  show  of  bidding  defiance  to  burglars, 
and  a  solid  desk,  behind  which  sat  Peter  Bolton 
himself. 

The  outer  office  was  empty,  save  for  the  unin- 
viting chairs  and  the  rickety  desk,  and  General  Wil- 
son, with  a  quick  jerk,  opened  the  inner  door  and 
bustled  into  the  room. 

"Ha-ha,  Bolton !"  he  cried,  "I  catch  you  with  your 
washee-washee  man,  eh?  That's  right,  that's  right. 
Cleanliness  next  to  godliness,  you  know — though 
you  can't  always  be  sure  that  the  Chinese  washman 

104 


PETER    BOLTON  105 

is  to  be  recommended  on  either  count.  Hey,  John, 
you  trot  along  now.  I  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  Bolton." 

Glancing  over  General  Wilson's  head  I  saw  the 
thin,  sour  face  of  Peter  Bolton,  and  behind  the  mask 
of  its  dry  expression  I  thought  I  recognized  a  pass- 
ing flash  of  mental  disturbance  that  suggested  fear, 
or  even  consternation.  Then  a  sardonic  smile  tight- 
ened and  drew  down  the  corners  of  the  mouth,  and 
his  hard,  nasal  voice  twanged  out  a  grudging  word 
of  recognition. 

At  the  same  moment  the  "washee-washee"  man 
stepped  to  the  doorway,  and  I  was  startled  to  find 
myself  looking  into  the  face  of  Big  Sam.  He  was 
dressed  in  the  coarse  blue  jeans  and  trousers  of  the 
Chinese  working-man,  his  hat  was  drawn  down  over 
his  eyes,  and  his  face  was  of  a  darker  hue  than  I 
remembered  it.  But  the  man  shone  through  his  dis- 
guise as  plainly  as  the  sun  shines  through  colored 
glass. 

I  recovered  from  my  surprise  in  an  instant,  and 
halted  him  in  the  outer  room. 

"This  is  a  lucky  meeting,"  I  said.  "I  have  been 
wondering  whether  I  ought  to  report  to  you  about 
your  ward.  She  is  badly  hurt,  but  is  now  out  of 
danger." 

The  man  glanced  at  me  with  expressionless  eye. 

"I  no  sabby  you,"  he  said  with  the  true  coolie 
accent.  "What  you  wan'  ?" 

"Oh,"  I  returned,  repressing  my  amusement  at 
this  preposterous  attempt  to  deceive  me,  "if  Kwan 
Sam  Suey,  sometimes  known  as  Big  Sam,  doesn't 


106         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

want  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say,  I  am  in  no  hurry 
to  say  it." 

"No  sabby  Big  Sam,"  said  the  Chinaman  gruffly. 

"And  I  should  really  like  to  know,"  I  said,  lower- 
ing my  voice,  "what  Big  Sam  is  doing  with  Mr. 
Bolton." 

"I  no  sabby  Missah  Bolton,"  growled  the  Ori- 
ental. 

"You  don't  'sabby'  the  man  you've  just  been  talk- 
ing with  ?" 

"I  no  sabby  him  name.  I  no  sabby  you'  name.  I 
sabby  him  one  man — I  sabby  you  'nothe'  man.  I 
come  sell  him  lotte'y  ticket.  You  likee  buy  lotte'y 
ticket?" 

This  appeared  to  be  an  excellent  chance  to  trap 
the  wily  Oriental.  I  replied  that  I  would  risk  twenty- 
five  cents  on  his  game,  and  waited  with  a  smile  for 
the  excuse  that  would  be  invented  to  put  me  off. 
But  Big  Sam  had  made  up  for  his  part  with  more 
attention  to  detail  than  I  had  supposed.  At  my  word 
he  calmly  drew  forth  from  his  capacious  sleeve  a 
blank  ticket  and  a  marking  brush. 

"I  make  you  good  ticket,"  he  said  gravely,  mark- 
ing ten  of  the  squares.  "You  sabby  Kwan  Luey?" 

"Yes,  I  sabby  Kwan  Luey."  He  was  one  of  the 
big  merchants  of  Chinatown,  and  among  other 
things  did  a  brisk  banking  and  lottery  business 
among  his  countrymen. 

"Dlawing  to-mollow,"  said  the  Chinaman.  "You 
take  'em  ticket  Kwan  Luey  you  get  'em  heap  big 
money."  And  with  a  brusk  nod  he  was  gone. 


PETER    BOLTON  107. 

I  stared  after  him  in  perplexity.  My  eyes  were 
never  more  certain  of  anything  than  of  the  identity 
of  this  man  with  Big  Sam.  And  yet  he  had  carried 
off  his  imposture  with  such  assurance  that,  for  a  mo- 
ment after  he  had  disappeared,  I  was  shaken  in  my 
conviction.  But  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  With  a 
glance  at  the  paper  in  my  hand  and  with  a  recollec- 
tion of  his  parting  words,  certainty  returned,  and  I 
was  convinced  that  the  ticket  was  an  order  on  Kwan 
Luey  for  money.  Was  Big  Sam  trying  to  bribe 
me,  or  was  he  attempting  thus  to  provide  for  the  ex- 
penses of  the  Chinese  girl  ?  Nothing  had  been  said 
on  the  delicate  point  of  meeting  her  charges  for 
food,  care  and  lodging.  Possibly  he  had  chosen  this 
eccentric  way  of  putting  the  money  in  my  hands. 

There  was,  however,  another  question  more  per- 
plexing than  that  of  money.  What  were  the  rela- 
tions between  Bolton  and  Big  Sam?  Here  for  the 
second  time  I  had  evidence  that  they  were  in  secret 
alliance.  The  business  of  supplying  coolie  workmen 
was  not  of  such  disrepute  that  it  had  to  be  conducted 
in  disguise.  Could  it  be  possible  that  Big  Sam  was 
one  of  Bolton's  agents  in  the  plot  to  overthrow 
Wharton  Kendrick?  And  if  so,  was  the  Chinese 
girl  brought  under  the  Kendrick  roof  as  a  part  of 
Peter  Bolton's  tortuous  policy? 

As  there  was  no  answer  to  my  questions  to  be  had 
by  studying  the  ticket  Big  Sam  had  given  me,  I 
thrust  it  into  my  pocket  and  followed  General  Wil- 
son into  Peter  Bolton's  private  den. 

There  are  certain  natures  whose  approach  brings 


io8         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

an  access  of  mental  or  physical  repulsion.  A  man 
may  conform  to  all  the  sanitary  laws,  and  yet  ap- 
peal quite  as  objectionably  to  the  inner  spirit  as  the 
Eskimo  reeking  of  spoiled  blubber  appeals  to  the 
physical  senses. 

To  approach  Peter  Bolton  was  like  putting  your 
hand  on  the  spider  to  which  current  metaphor  com- 
pared him.  If  you  liked  spiders,  he  was  doubtless  a 
pleasant  enough  companion.  But  as  for  me,  I  share 
the  popular  prejudice  against  the  arachnidae,  and 
found  myself  at  once  in  mental  antagonism  to  Mr. 
Bolton. 

General  Wilson  had  plunged  into  a  brisk  but  one- 
sided conversation  with  his  curmudgeon.  The  first 
words  I  had  missed  in  the  encounter  with  Big  Sam, 
but  as  I  crossed  the  threshold  he  was  holding  forth 
in  his  most  coruscating  style. 

"By  George,  Bolton,  I  wish  I  had  time  to  show 
you  how  it  ought  to  be  done,  but  I've  got  to  think 
of  getting  back  to  New  York  toward  the  end  of  the 
month.  Why,  this  is  my  vacation  time,  and  I'm 
carrying  on  five  trades  that  count  up  to  three  or 
four  million  dollars.  Of  course,  I  couldn't  afford  to 
touch  'em  under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  one  has 
to  do  these  little  things  for  one's  friends.  I  took  a 
run  down  to  New  York  just  before  I  came  out  here, 
and  we  had  a  little  dinner  at  the  club — oh,  there 
were  only  a  dozen  of  us,  or  so — but  big  men  all  of 
them.  Why,  the  men  around  that  table  could  have 
signed  a  joint  note  for  three  hundred  million — and 
got  it  discounted,  too,  if  there  was  a  bank  big  enough 


PETER    BOLTON  109 

to  do  the  business.  Young  Vanderbilt  was  there — 
I  suppose  we  must  call  him  Old  Van,  now  the  Com- 
modore is  gone — Astor,  Belmont,  and  the  rest  of 
that  crowd.  Jay  Gould  couldn't  come,  because  he 
and  Vanderbilt  don't  speak.  I  was  telling  them 
that  I  was  going  to  make  a  flying  trip  out  here, 
when  Vanderbilt  pipes  up,  and  says,  'General  Wil- 
son, you're  just  the  man  we  want.  There  are  good 
bargains  to  be  picked  up  out  there,  and  you  must 
keep  your  eye  out  for  them.'  And  the  others  chimed 
in  and  said,  'Yes,  you  must  do  some  business  for  us 
while  you  are  out  there.'  'Hold  on,  gentlemen,'  I 
said;  Tm  going  out  for  a  vacation,  and  I  can't 
burden  my  mind  with  business.'  But  it  was  no  use. 
The  more  I  protested,  the  warmer  they  got  over  it 
— insisted  that  I  could  get  lots  more  fun  out  of  the 
trip  if  I  did  business  than  I  could  if  I  didn't — said 
it  was  like  a  man  going  for  a  walk — if  he's  just  out 
for  exercise  it's  confounded  stupid  work,  and  he 
gets  tired  in  no  time ;  but  put  a  gun  on  his  shoulder 
and  turn  him  out  to  look  for  deer  and  he  will  tramp 
all  day  and  think  he's  had  no  end  of  fun.  Well,  at 
last  I  had  to  give  in.  What  can  you  do  when  you've 
got  three  hundred  million  against  you?  So  I  said, 
'Gentlemen,  let's  have  everything  regular.  Get  up  a 
syndicate — make  it  a  blind  pool — and  I'll  guarantee 
to  bring  you  back  something  worth  while.'  Well, 
they  jumped  at  that  idea  like  cats  at  a  mouse,  and 
in  ten  minutes  they  had  made  up  a  five-million-dol- 
lar pool.  So  I  expect  to  put  in  at  least  three  million 
before  I  leave.  I  closed  one  big  trade  with  Governor 


no         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Stanford  last  night,  and  I've  got  three  or  four  others 
on  the  books  now." 

Peter  Bolton's  gaunt  sallow  face,  with  its  project- 
ing jaw,  lost  none  of  its  sourness,  but  a  sardonic 
smile  tightened  his  thin  lips  and  drew  down  the 
corners  of  his  mouth. 

"Well,"  he  drawled  in  his  cracked  nasal  tone, 
"you  can  have  that  tract  of  mine  for  six  hundred 
thousand." 

"Couldn't  think  of  it,"  said  General  Wilson  brusk- 
ly.  "Two  hundred  thousand  would  be  a  fancy  figure 
for  it.  I  don't  want  it,  anyhow,  unless  I  can  get  that 
piece  of  Kendrick's  just  above  it." 

Bolton's  thin  lips  tightened  once  more,  and  a 
slight  flush  passed  over  his  sallow  face. 

"Kendrick's  place?"  he  said,  the  sarcastic  drawl 
quickening  a  little.  "I  shouldn't  think  you'd  want  to 
show  yourself  again  in  New  York  if  you'd  'a'  bought 
that  swamp.  What'd  he  ask  you  for  it  ?" 

"A  stiff  figure,  a  stiff  figure,"  said  General  Wil- 
son with  a  wave  of  his  arm,  as  if  Bolton's  question 
were  a  missile  that  he  was  fending  aside.  "It's 
swampy  enough,  and  needs  any  quantity  of  leveeing 
and  draining.  But  it's  rich  land.  I've  been  over  it 
all.  I  don't  say  I'll  buy  it,  but  I  might,  if  I  can  get 
it  at  a  reasonable  price." 

"You  can  get  My  Land  at  My  Price,"  drawled  the 
sarcastic  voice  of  Peter  Bolton,  audibly  putting  capi- 
tal letters  to  his  words  and  making  the  possessive 
pronoun  appear  very  large.  "I  said  six  hundred 
thousand,  didn't  I  ?  Well,  it's  had  a  raise  since  then. 


PETER  BOLTON        in 

It's  seven  hundred  thousand  now.  I  shouldn't  be 
surprised  if  it  went  to  eight  hundred  thousand  be- 
fore you  got  out." 

General  Wilson  appeared  to  regard  this  as  an  ex- 
cellent piece  of  pleasantry. 

"It  looks  to  a  man  up  a  tree,"  he  said  good-hu- 
moredly,  "as  though  you  didn't  want  me  to  buy 
Kendrick's  land." 

Bolton's  lips  drew  into  a  sneer. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  should  want  you  to  buy  Ken- 
drick's land,"  he  said.  "You  can  have  My  Land  at 
My  Price,"  he  repeated,  the  sneer  deepening  on  his 
face.  "My  price  is  nine  hundred  thousand  now." 

"Well,"  said  General  Wilson  with  a  chuckle,  "I've 
been  in  Chicago  through  some  pretty  exciting 
times,  and  I've  had  real-estate  deals  in  nearly  every 
part  of  the  country,  but  I  never  saw  property  go  up 
so  fast  as  that  piece  of  yours  out  in  the  San  Joaquin 
swamps."  Then,  changing  his  tone  suddenly,  he 
asked:  "Why  do  you  want  to  stop  the  trade  on 
Kendrick's  tract?  I  see  that  you're  nobody's  fool, 
and  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  we've  got  to  have 
your  place  if  we  take  his.  Now,  what's  your  game?" 

A  look  of  malevolent  shrewdness  came  over  Bol- 
ton's face,  and  he  pursed  up  his  mouth  as  though  he 
was  afraid  his  thoughts  were  going  to  escape. 

"If  you  would  like  to  know,"  he  drawled  at  last, 
"you  might  ask  Kendrick's  young  man  standing 
over  there  by  the  door." 

I  was  startled  at  this  sudden  attack.  Peter  Bolton 
had  to  this  minute  given  no  sign  that  he  was  aware 


112         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

of  my  existence,  and  I  was  filled  with  wonder  to 
know  how  he  had  discovered  that  I  was  in  Ken- 
drick's  employ.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
put  up  a  bold  front  on  the  matter,  and  I  said : 

"The  only  thing  I  could  tell  about  the  trouble  is 
that  the  Council  of  Nine  has  plenty  of  money  and  is 
spending  it  like  water." 

A  covering  of  gray  ashes  appeared  to  spread  over 
the  sallow  face  of  Peter  Bolton,  and  caused  General 
Wilson  to  spring  to  his  feet  with  the  exclamation : 

"Good  God,  what's  the  matter?" 

Peter  Bolton  waved  him  back  to  his  seat,  and  with 
an  effort  gasped  out : 

"The  Council  of  Nine!  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  nonsense?  I  never  heard  of  such  damned  fool- 
ery before !" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  I,  pressing  my  advantage.  "Wal- 
dorf was  up  here  night  before  last,  you  remember, 
and  got  thirty  thousand  dollars.  I  thought  you 
would  like  to  know  that  your  contribution  was  being 
spent  with  a  liberal  hand." 

Peter  Bolton's  face  assumed  a  gray-green  tint,  and 
he  cried  out : 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about.  You've 
gone  crazy — "  Then,  as  if  he  feared  that  I  would 
take  offense  at  the  words,  he  fell  from  the  attitude 
of  protest  to  one  of  cringing  obsequiousness.  "No,  I 
don't  mean  that — I  mean  that  I  want  you  to  do  some 
business  for  me." 

The  man  appeared  carried  away  with  fright;  his 
claw-like  hands  worked  convulsively,  and  a  perspira- 


PETER    BOLTON  113 

tion  started  on  his  forehead.  I  saw  in  his  eyes  a  fore- 
taste of  the  terrors  of  unsuccessful  crime,  and  that  as 
he  remembered  the  purposes  that  lay  behind  those 
rifles  in  the  Council's  armory,  his  conscience  con- 
jured up  the  vision  of  the  police  and  the  hangman 
stretching  forth  their  hands  to  seize  him. 

"Good  God,  Bolton !"  cried  General  Wilson  again. 
"What  have  you  been  doing?  You  couldn't  look 
more  upset  if  you  had  murdered  your  grandmother 
and  Hampden  had  uncovered  the  corpse." 

"It's  nothing — nothing,"  gasped  Bolton,  recover- 
ing himself  with  an  effort;  "just  a  little  joke  we 
have — just  a  little  joke."  And  he  framed  his  thin 
lips  into  the  semblance  of  a  ghastly  smile. 

General  Wilson's  red  face  grew  redder  yet  as  an 
angry  color  swept  over  it. 

"Well,  you've  got  too  many  jokes  to  suit  me,  and 
a  damned  queer  taste  in  humor — that's  all  I've  got 
to  say  about  it.  I  came  to  talk  business,  and  you've 
been  wasting  my  time  with  your  tomfoolery."  And 
with  an  angry  wave  of  his  hand  he  got  to  his  feet 
and  strode  out. 

Almost  before  General  Wilson  had  reached  the 
hall,  Bolton  had  turned  eagerly  to  me. 

"Come  in  and  shut  the  door,"  he  said  with  a 
quavering  voice.  "That  gilded  ass  may  stop  to  lis- 
ten." 

He  was  silent  a  minute  as  I  obeyed  him,  and  I  sur- 
mised that  he  was  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  pos- 
sible plans  by  which  I  might  be  gagged.  And  as  he 
motioned  me  to  a  seat  his  calculating  eye  was  taking 


ii4         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

my  measure  with  all  the  coolness  of  a  butcher  esti- 
mating the  value  of  a  steer. 

"You  are  a  young  man,"  he  began  with  an  insinu- 
ating drawl. 

I  admitted  the  charge,  but  offered  him  the  conso- 
lation to  be  drawn  from  the  theory  that  I  should 
probably  get  over  it  in  time.  He  paid  no  attention, 
to  my  flippant  suggestion,  but  continued  in  a  slow 
tone  of  ironic  emphasis : 

"You  are  old  enough,  though,  to  know  that  you 
have  got  to  look  out  for  your  own  Interests.  That's 
what  every  Man  must  do,  if  he  wants  to  keep  in 
Business."  Peter  Bolton's  sarcastic  drawl  punctu- 
ated his  important  words  with  capitals.  "If  you 
don't  think  enough  of  your  Interests  to  look  out  for 
Yourself,  nobody  is  going  to  look  out  for  them  for 
you." 

"If  you  want  to  do  me  a  good  turn,"  I  said  with 
strategic  frankness,  "you  might  tell  me  what  your 
business  is  with  Big  Sam." 

He  was  not  to  be  caught  off  his  guard  again.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  my  words,  but  continued  with 
more  of  propitiation  in  his  voice  than  I  had  con- 
sidered possible. 

"Now,  you're  a  Man  of  the  World — young  as 
you  are — and  you  have  seen  something  of  Business. 
You  have  seen  the  man  who  has  given  his  best  years 
to  making  money  for  the  other  fellow  turned  adrift 
as  soon  as  the  other  fellow  finds  somebody  who  can 
make  more  money  for  him.  That's  the  Gratitude  of 
Business,  young  man — the  Gratitude  of  Business. 


I  shook  my  fist  in  Peter  Bolton's  face        Page  11$ 


PETER    BOLTON  115 

I've  seen  a  man  who  made  fifty  thousand  dollars  for 
his  employer  in  a  trade  turned  out  inside  of  six 
months  because  somebody  offered  to  work  for 
twenty-five  dollars  less  a  month.  That's  what  you 
get  when  you  look  out  for  your  Employer's  interests 
instead  of  your  Own."  The  depth  of  sarcasm  in 
Peter  Bolton's  drawl  was  portentous. 

I  did  not  know  whether  to  be  amused  or  indignant 
at  this  attempt  to  teach  me  the  folly  of  loyalty  and 
the  essential  respectability  of  treachery.  So  I  gave 
a  nod  of  comprehension,  which  he  took  for  en- 
couragement, and  he  continued : 

"Now,  I'm  a  plain-speaking  old  fellow,  and  I 
won't  talk  nonsense  to  you  about  Gratitude  or 
Friendship.  I  won't  say  a  word  about  the  things 
I'll  do  for  you  Some  day.  I'll  just  talk  Cash  in  Hand 
to  you,  with  no  back  bills  to  be  paid  with  promises 
on  either  side." 

"Very  good,"  I  replied,  "but  I'd  rather  you  would 
answer  the  questions  about  Big  Sam  and  the  Council 
of  Nine." 

Bolton  gave  me  a  cunning  look. 

"I  want  you  to  take  up  some  private  business  for 
me,"  he  said  slowly,  "and  I'll  give  you  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  sixty  days'  work." 

"What  work?"  I  asked  sharply,  my  indignation 
getting  the  better  of  my  amusement. 

"Confidential  work,"  said  Bolton  deliberately.  "I 
want  a  representative  in  Kendrick's  office,  and  you're 
the  best  man  I  know  for  the  job." 

My   repressed   indignation   broke   forth   at   this 


ii6         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

brazen  proffer  of  a  bribe,  and  I  jumped  to  my  feet 
and  shook  my  fist  in  Peter  Bolton's  face. 

"You  old  scoundrel!"  I  cried.  "If  you  were  a 
younger  man,  I'd  thump  the  breath  out  of  you !" 

"You  are  a  bigger  Fool  than  I  thought,"  said 
Bolton  in  his  most  sarcastic  voice.  And  he  threw 
back  his  head  and  opened  his  mouth  in  silent  laugh- 
ter. 

"I  give  you  warning,"  I  continued,  "that  I  shall 
tell  Colonel  Kendrick  of  your  offer." 

The  unabashed  Bolton  drew  down  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  in  a  sarcastic  smile,  and  his  sarcastic  voice 
followed  me  as  I  opened  the  door : 

"If  Kendrick  offers  you  eleven  thousand,  come 
back  and  I'll  see  if  I  can  do  better." 


CHAPTER  X 

A   COUNCIL   OF   WAR 

"No,"  said  Laura  Kendrick,  in  her  piquant  voice, 
"uncle  isn't  at  home,  but  he  sent  word  he  would  be 
back  at  nine  o'clock.  You  look  very  important,  but 
I'm  sure  it's  something  that  will  wait  an  hour." 

"It  is  a  bit  important,"  I  replied,  thinking  grimly 
of  the  thirty-thousand-dollar  contribution  to  the 
Council  of  Nine,  the  thousand  rifles,  and  Peter  Bol- 
ton's  self -revelations  in  his  attempt  to  bribe  me. 
"I've  been  hunting  Mr.  Kendrick  all  day  about  it. 
But  it  has  kept  without  spoiling  for  eight  or  nine 
hours  already,  so  another  sixty  minutes  will  do  no 
harm." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Miss  Kendrick,  "I  won't  keep 
you  standing  in  the  hall.  I  came  out  when  your  name 
was  announced,  to  let  you  know  that  Mr.  Baldwin 
is  in  the  library,  and  Mercy  will  be  down  in  a  few 
minutes.  So  you  can  have  your  choice  of  waiting 
in  there,  or  you  can  find  an  easy  chair  in  uncle's 
den." 

"Oh,  if  that  is  the  choice,  give  me  the  library,  by 
all  means." 

"You  may  think  your  tone  is  complimentary,  but 
I'll  tell  you  I  don't  consider  it  so.  He's  a  very  agree- 
able man,  and  you  had  better  be  very  civil,  or  I 

117 


ii8         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

shall  banish  you  to  the  den,  after  all."  Then  she 
changed  her  half-bantering  tone  to  one  of  earnest- 
ness, and  halted  me  at  the  library  door.  "What  is  it 
you  are  about?"  she  asked.  "Is  uncle  in  danger?" 

"I  believe  not,"  I  replied. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"You  would  not  answer  so  unless  he  were.  What 
is  it  that  you  fear?"  And  her  brown  eyes  looked 
anxiously  up  into  mine. 

"There  is  no  danger  that  I  can  learn  of  that  threat- 
ens your  uncle.  I  believe  he  is  perfectly  safe." 

She  threw  my  arm  aside  with  a  gesture  of  irrita- 
tion. 

"Do  you  think  I  have  not  the  right  to  know  ?"  she 
exclaimed.  "Do  you  think  I  could  be  of  no  use  ?  Do 
you  think  I  ought  to  be  shut  up  in  the  dark,  won- 
dering what  is  going  to  happen  ?" 

"You  are  worrying  yourself  without  need,"  I  said. 
"You  can  hold  me  responsible  for  his  safety." 

"It  is  the  trouble  with  old  Mr.  Bolton,  is  it  not?" 
she  asked  after  a  pause. 

I  balanced  the  advantages  of  a  lie  and  the  truth. 

"Yes,  it  is  on  that  business  that  I  am  engaged." 

"And  you  will  tell  me  nothing  about  it."  There 
was  a  trace  of  bitterness  in  her  tone,  and  giving  a 
shrug  of  resentful  resignation  she  opened  the  door 
to  the  library  and  preceded  me  into  the  room. 

Mr.  Baldwin  sat  there  wrapped  in  his  superiority 
to  all  created  things,  and  gave  me  a  stiff  nod  of 
recognition,  but  melted  into  something  resembling 
geniality  as  Laura  Kendrick  took  a  chair  by  his 


A    COUNCIL   OF   WAR  119 

side.  Mercy  Fillmore  had  come  in  at  the  other  door 
while  we  had  been  carrying  on  our  skirmish  in  the 
hall,  and  now  made  room  for  me  on  the  sofa  beside 
her. 

"I'm  glad  you  came,"  she  said.  "I  wanted  to  ask 
you  something."  The  soothing  quality  of  Mercy 
Fillmore's  voice  and  manner  was  doubly  welcome 
after  the  rasping  that  Laura  Kendrick  had  managed 
to  inflict  upon  my  spirit  as  the  just  punishment  for 
the  crime  of  incommunicativeness. 

I  responded  to  Miss  Fillmore's  greeting  with  fit- 
ting words. 

"Well,"  she  continued,  "what  I  wanted  to  ask 
you  was  this :  Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  to 
this  house  from  having  the  Chinese  girl  here  ?" 

"Why,  no ;  I  hardly  think  so.  Big  Sam  assured  me 
that  there  was  not."  Then,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, I  added:  "While  I  don't  doubt  Big  Sam's 
good  faith  in  the  matter,  I  have  taken  the  precaution 
to  have  the  place  well  guarded.  There  are  four 
watchmen  outside  at  the  present  moment — unless  I 
underestimate  the  attractions  of  the  corner  grocery ; 
and  the  highbinder  who  tries  to  get  in  will  have  the 
warmest  five  minutes  of  his  life." 

"How  kind  of  you  to  attend  to  that !"  said  Miss 
Fillmore.  "But  I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  highbinders. 
What  set  me  to  asking  you  was  a  meeting  I  had 
with  Mr.  Parks  to-day." 

"Parks!"  I  exclaimed  in  surprise.  "You  know 
him?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed.    We  were  children  together, 


120         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

and  I  count  him  as  a  good  friend."  A  blush  that 
tinted  her  cheeks  suggested  that  the  friendship  was 
a  little  nearer  than  she  would  have  me  believe. 

"Then  I  wish  you  would  get  him  to  cut  his  hair! 
I  think  it  would  save  him  from  getting  hanged." 

"How  absurd  you  are !" 

"Merely  an  application  of  the  theory  of  clothes — 
Sartor  Resartus,  and  all  that,  you  know.  Dress  to  a 
part,  and  you  get  the  spirit  of  it." 

"You  are  joking,"  said  Miss  Fillmore,  with  the 
seriousness  of  one  to  whom  the  sense  of  humor  is 
beyond  understanding. 

"Not  at  all,"  I  returned.  "If  Parks  came  down  to 
the  normal  supply  of  hair  he  might  get  rid  of  some 
abnormal  ideas  that  are  going  to  bring  him  into 
trouble." 

Miss  Fillmore  looked  at  me  doubtfully  a  moment, 
and  again  expressed  her  opinion  that  I  was  joking. 
Then  she  put  aside  the  subject  as  one  beyond  her 
comprehension,  and  continued : 

"But  never  mind.  I  met  him  this  afternoon  when 
I  was  out  taking  the  air,  and  he  said  that  there  was 
going  to  be  trouble  in  the  city,  and  asked  if  we  kept 
any  Chinese  servants." 

"Yes?  And  if  you  did—  ?" 

"Well,  we  don't,  and  I  told  him  so,  and  he  said 
if  we  did  we  had  better  turn  them  away  in  a  hurry. 
Then  he  went  on  to  tell  me  that  there  was  going  to 
be  an  uprising  of  the  people,  and  that  the  unem- 
ployed might  make  an  attack  on  the  Chinese  and 
those  who  hire  them.  Now,  do  you  think  that  the 


A   COUNCIL   OF   WAR  121 

presence  of  our  poor  little  Moon  Ying  will  bring 
the  mob  here  ?" 

"Mr.  Parks  could  answer  that  question  much  bet- 
ter than  I." 

"I  asked  him,  and  he  said  'Oh,  no' — that  his  peo- 
ple were  not  warring  on  women  or  the  sick;  but  I 
feared  he  was  too  hopeful." 

"I  do  not  think  there  is  the  slightest  danger,"  I 
replied.  "If  Mr.  Parks'  friends  get  to  be  too  ob- 
streperous, the  police  will  make  short  work  of  them. 
But  I  don't  think  they  are  enterprising  enough  to 
get  so  far  away  from  Tar  Flat."  I  spoke  with  a  con- 
fidence that  was  more  assumed  than  real. 

"Oh,  indeed  they  are.  There  was  some  one  here 
to-day  about  the  matter.  Laura,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
raising  her  voice  and  earning  a  frown  from  Mr. 
Baldwin  by  breaking  into  his  monopoly;  "Laura, 
my  dear,  didn't  you  say  there  was  some  one  here 
to-day  inquiring  about  Chinese?" 

"Indeed  there  was,"  said  Miss  Laura,  emphasizing 
the  statement  with  an  indignant  nod.  "He  was  a 
very  disagreeable  man,  and  insisted  on  seeing  the 
lady  of  the  house,  so  at  last  I  went  to  the  door.  I 
found  him  horribly  impolite.  I  had  to  tell  him  three 
times  that  I  was  the  lady  before  he  would  believe 
me." 

"What  sort  of  looking  man  was  he?  And  what 
did  he  say?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  he  was  well-looking  enough — a  man  of  good 
size,  about  thirty,  with  a  black  mustache  and  an  in- 
solent way.  What  he  said  was  that  he  hoped  we 


122         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

didn't  employ  any  Chinese.  I  just  told  him  that  I 
was  much  obliged  to  him  for  his  interest  in  us,  but 
as  I  couldn't  see  that  it  concerned  him  I  would  ask 
to  be  excused.  Then  he  got  saucy,  and  said  that  if 
I  wouldn't  listen  to  him  I  would  have  to  listen  to  a 
mob — that  wasn't  what  he  called  it,  but  that's  what 
he  meant.  He  said  he  was  a  delegate  from  some 
anti-coolie  club  or  convention,  or  something  of  the 
sort,  with  a  hundred  thousand  members,  and  they 
were  going  to  see  that  the  Chinese  were  discharged 
and  white  men  put  in  their  places." 

"That's  rather  a  large  contract,"  said  Mr.  Bald- 
win. "I  hope  you  shut  the  door  in  his  face.  I  should 
like  to  have  given  employment  to  one  white  man  to 
boot  him  off  the  place." 

"Well,"  continued  Miss  Kendrick,  "I  was  too  mad 
to  tell  him  that  uncle  is  so  opposed  to  the  Chinese 
that  he's  never  allowed  one  about  the  house.  I  just 
said  that  we  hadn't  any  Chinese  now,  but  if  he  would 
come  around  in  about  two  weeks  we  would  try  to 
accommodate  him." 

"A  soft  answer,"  I  said.  "I  hope  it  turned  away 
wrath." 

"Well,  he  got  saucier,  and  I  told  him  to  go,  and 
he  went.  I'm  afraid  I  wasn't  polite.  But  I'm  as  sorry 
as  sorry  can  be  now,  for  he  told  me  he  had  been  out 
of  work  for  six  months  because  the  Chinese  had 
taken  the  factory  that  had  employed  him,  and  I'm 
sure  it  is  a  very  unpleasant  thing  to  be  turned  out 
of  the  place  where  you  make  your  living."  Miss 
Kendrick's  voice  had  softened  with  her  last  words, 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  123 

and  the  light  of  womanly  sympathy  shone  in  her 
eyes. 

"You  are  right,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Fillmore. 
"It  has  been  a  hard  year  for  many.  We  have  been 
appealed  to  by  scores  of  men  who  have  been  turned 
out  of  one  place  and  could  find  no  other." 

"Serves  'em  right,"  said  Mr.  Baldwin  shortly. 
"If  they  can't  keep  their  jobs,  they  ought  to  lose 
them.  This  talk  about  Chinese  competition  is  ab- 
solute nonsense.  A  competent  man  can  find  work 
any  time.  The  anti-Chinese  howl  comes  from  the 
fellows  who  don't  want  to  work,  and  wouldn't  work 
if  there  wasn't  a  Chinaman  within  eight  thousand 
miles." 

"I  hope  you  are  right,"  said  Miss  Kendrick.  "It 
isn't  good  for  the  spirits  to  think  of  men  going  hun- 
gry when  they  are  willing  to  labor." 

"You  needn't  distress  yourself,  Miss  Laura,"  said 
Mr.  Baldwin,  with  an  air  of  contempt  for  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  unemployed.  "You  couldn't  drive 
those  fellows  to  work  with  a  Catling  gun.  This 
talk  about  Chinese  taking  away  their  jobs  is  just  an 
excuse  for  them  to  get  out  on  street  corners  and 
howl  about  their  wrongs,  in  the  hope  that  somebody 
like  you  and  Mercy  will  set  up  a  soup-house  for 
them." 

"I  am  afraid  you  haven't  looked  into  the  matter," 
said  Miss  Fillmore.  "Our  Helping  Hand  Society 
has  found  much  real  distress  from  want  of  employ- 
ment. You  don't  agree  with  Mr.  Baldwin,  do  you, 
Mr.  Hampden?" 


124         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Certainly  not,"  said  I,  with  some  irritation  at 
Mr.  Baldwin's  scornful  airs.  "The  anti-Chinese  cry 
may  have  been  taken  up  by  those  who  had  rather 
talk  than  work,  but  there  is  plenty  of  foundation  for 
the  statement  that  the  Chinese  are  driving  white  men 
out  of  employment." 

"I  have  found  nothing  of  the  sort  in  my  ex- 
perience," said  Mr.  Baldwin  contemptuously. 

"Well,  your  experience  is  not  that  of  men  in  busi- 
ness," I  returned  warmly.  "You  will  find  that  class 
for  class  the  Chinaman  can  run  the  white  man  out 
of  any  line  he  enters.  The  Chinese  laborer  can  work 
and  live  on  less  wages  than  the  white  laborer;  the 
Chinese  merchant  can  grow  wealthy  in  a  market 
that  would  throw  the  white  merchant  into  bank- 
ruptcy, and  the  Chinese  manufacturer  thrives  under 
conditions  that  drive  his  white  competitor  to  the 
wall." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  talking  that  way,  Hamp- 
den?"  cried  Mr.  Baldwin  with  irritation.  "You 
know  well  enough  that  you're  not  serious.  It's  im- 
possible." 

A  sharp  answer  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  when 
Miss  Kendrick  interposed. 

"That  will  do  for  a  very  stupid  debate,"  she  said. 
"You  can  put  the  rest  of  it  in  the  papers.  I  think  I 
hear  the  doctor,  and  I  want  Mr.  Hampden  to  come 
and  see  him."  And  with  a  peremptory  wave  of  her 
hand  she  rose,  and  I  followed  her  out  into  the  hall. 
As  the  door  closed  she  dropped  her  commanding 
manner.  "Do  you  know  it  is  ten  o'clock?"  she  said, 


A    COUNCIL   OF    WAR  125 

"and  uncle  hasn't  come  in  yet."  Her  tone  was 
troubled. 

"Is  it  anything  unusual  ?"  I  asked. 

"I  suppose  you  think  it's  a  case  of  nerves,"  she 
said,  "and  maybe  it  is.  But  I  shouldn't  worry  if  he 
hadn't  sent  word  to  me  that  he  would  be  here  by 
nine.  I'm  afraid  something  has  happened,  and  I 
want  you  to  see  about  it." 

"Have  you  any  idea  where  he  went  ?" 

"He  spoke  of  going  to  Mr.  Coleman's." 

"William  T.  Coleman's?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  will  be  a  good  place  to  start  a  search, 
then."  And  I  secured  my  hat. 

"It's  good  of  you  to  go,"  said  Miss  Kendrick. 

"Am  I  forgiven  ?"  I  asked,  taking  the  small  hand 
that  lay  so  temptingly  near  my  own,  and  bending 
over  it. 

"There,  that  will  do,"  she  said,  snatching  her  hand 
away  and  retreating  in  some  confusion.  "Your  par- 
don for  being  an  obstinate  man-creature  is  signed, 
and  you'd  better  not  imperil  it  by  any  Louis  Quatorze 
manners.  And  I'm  sure  you'd  better  not  waste  any 
more  time." 

Once  out  of  the  house  my  fears  for  Wharton  Ken- 
drick became  more  lively,  and  I  hastened  to  the 
Coleman  residence. 

"Take  my  card  to  Colonel  Kendrick,"  I  said  brisk- 
ly to  the  man  who  opened  the  door. 

He  looked  at  it  doubtfully  a  moment.  But  my  as- 
sured air,  and  the  "Attorney  at  law"  that  announced 


126         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

my  business  in  unmistakable  type  impressed  him, 
and  he  called  a  fellow  servant  to  his  side,  gave  him 
the  card  with  a  word  of  instruction,  and  advised  me 
to  be  seated. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  waiting  I  wondered 
whether  I  would  not  have  done  better,  after  all,  to 
ask  speech  with  the  master  of  the  house,  and  I  was 
just  on  the  point  of  requesting  the  Cerberus  to  take 
my  name  to  Mr.  Coleman,  when  my  dubitations  were 
cut  short  by  the  opening  of  a  door,  and  a  sudden 
outburst  of  voices,  which  softened  to  an  indistin- 
guishable murmur  as  it  closed  again,  and  Colonel 
Kendrick  came  walking  down  the  hall. 

"Ah,  Hampden,"  he  said  gravely,  stroking  his 
flame-tinted  whiskers,  "I'm  not  sure  whether  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  or  not.  What  has  happened?  Any- 
thing?" 

"Well,  I'm  in  no  doubt  about  being  glad  to  see 
you,"  I  returned.  "I've  been  suspecting  you  were 
knocked  on  the  head." 

"Pooh !"  said  Wharton  Kendrick.  "I'm  in  no  dan- 
ger. Don't  worry  about  me.  What  you  want  to  do 
is  to  find  out  what  the  other  fellow  is  doing.  Can 
you  tell  me  that  ?" 

"Certainly.  He  left  his  office  at  six  o'clock,  went 
directly  to  his  house,  and  hasn't  stirred  out  of  it 
since." 

"Very  good.  Now,  I  believe  you  had  something 
to  tell  me."  And  his  eye  wandered  uneasily  to  the 
door  from  behind  which  the  confused  murmur 
swelled  with  tantalizing  indistinctness. 


A    COUNCIL    OF    WAR  127 

"Yes :  I  have  been  hunting  you  all  day  to  tell  you 
that  I  received  word  this  morning  that  the  Council 
of  Nine  had  bought  a  thousand  rifles." 

This  bit  of  news  brought  no  answering  sign  of 
surprise  on  the  face  of  my  client. 

"Well,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "I  wasn't  much  be- 
hind you  in  getting  the  information.  I  heard  about 
it  this  afternoon  on  the  street." 

"On  the  street !"  I  exclaimed.  "It  was  told  to  me 
as  a  profound  secret."  It  seemed  an  altogether  per- 
plexing thing  that  the  information  that  Clark  had 
considered  it  death  to  reveal  should  be  the  talk  of 
commercial  San  Francisco. 

"Well,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick  with  a  smile,  "if 
it's  a  secret  it's  one  that  needs  a  good  deal  of  help 
in  keeping  it.  I  heard  it  from  a  dozen  different  direc- 
tions." 

"There  will  be  some  astonished  men  in  the  Coun- 
cil if  they  hear  of  this  report,"  I  said. 

A  grim  smile  wrinkled  Wharton  Kendrick's  ruddy 
cheeks,  and  drove  for  a  moment  the  thoughtful  look 
from  his  eyes.  He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
threw  himself  back  in  his  chair. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  can  expect  them  to  have  an 
attack  of  heart  disease  at  the  breakfast-table  then. 
It  will  all  be  in  the  papers  in  the  morning.  But,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  got  the  impression  that  the  nine 
members  of  the  Council  and  all  their  friends  were 
giving  their  afternoon  to  circulating  the  report." 

I  was  a  little  piqued  at  the  staleness  of  my  infor- 


128         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Since  you  are  so  well-posted  about  the  purchase 
of  the  rifles — "  I  began. 

"The  alleged  purchase  of  the  rifles,"  interrupted 
Wharton  Kendrick. 

"The  purchase  of  the  rifles,"  I  repeated.  "I  sup- 
pose I  don't  need  to  tell  you  where  the  money  came 
from  to  pay  for  them." 

"Oh,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick  carelessly,  "it 
doesn't  take  much  money  to  get  up  a  report." 

"Well,  it  took  thirty  thousand  dollars  for  this 
one." 

"Pooh,  Hampden,  you've  been  dreaming.  That 
crowd  couldn't  raise  thirty  thousand  cents." 

"Not  alone,  I  grant  you.  But  you  will  admit  that 
it  might  be  done  with  the  assistance  of  a  generous- 
hearted  millionaire  who  has  been  convinced  of  the 
loftiness  of  their  aims." 

"What  the  devil  are  you  driving  at,  Hampden? 
Talk  plain  United  States."  Wharton  Kendrick  sat 
bolt  upright,  and  looked  at  me  sternly,  with  the  light 
of  half-comprehension  in  his  eyes. 

"In  plain  language,  then,  Peter  Bolton  paid  thirty 
thousand  dollars  into  the  treasury  of  the  Council 
of  Nine  night  before  last,  and  the  rifles  have  been 
bought  with  his  money." 

Kendrick  jumped  to  his  feet.  His  ruddy  face  went 
pale,  and  then  turned  ruddier  than  ever. 

"Bolton!"  he  cried.   "How  do  you  know  that?" 

I  gave  Clark's  account  of  the  matter,  recalled 
Bolton's  dealings  with  the  Council,  and  clenched  the 
Conclusion  with  the  corroborative  testimony  of  my 


A    COUNCIL    OF   WAR  129 

interview  with  Bolton  in  his  office.  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  received  my  tale 
in  a  brown  study.  Before  I  had  done,  he  interrupted 
me. 

"I  see  his  game.  This  puts  a  different  face  on  the 
matter.  Come  in  here."  And  rising  suddenly  he 
seized  me  by  the  arm  and  marched  me  into  the  room 
from  which  he  had  come,  with  the  authoritative  air 
of  a  policeman  haling  a  burglar  to  prison. 

The  room  to  which  I  was  introduced  in  this 
ignominious  fashion  was  of  moderate  size,  and  the 
score  or  so  of  men  who  were  gathered  there  filled  it 
comfortably.  I  had  noted  in  the  company  several  of 
the  leading  financial  men  of  the  city,  when  Whar- 
ton Kendrick  brought  me  to  a  halt  before  a  tall, 
broad-shouldered,  full-faced  man,  with  a  long  gray 
mustache,  kindly  gray  eyes,  and  a  calm,  resourceful 
expression. 

"Coleman,  let  me  introduce  my  attorney,  Mr. 
Hampden," — I  became  suddenly  grateful  that  he 
had  presented  me  in  this  character — "son  of  Dick 
Hampden,  you  remember.  He  brings  news  that  puts 
a  different  face  on  affairs." 

I  had  seen  William  T.  Coleman  on  the  street,  and 
had  known  something  of  his  romantic  history.  His 
leadership  of  the  forces  of  order  in  the  city,  when 
the  criminals  of  1851  and  1856  left  no  remedy  to 
honest  men  but  that  of  revolution,  had  impressed 
my  imagination,  and  I  was  prepared  to  feel  the  glow 
of  admiration  that  warmed  my  spirit  as  he  shook 
my  hand  with  a  kindly  word.  No  one  could  approach 


130         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  man  without  receiving  the  impression  of  quiet 
force;  yet  it  was,  after  all,  difficult  to  realize  that 
this  kindly  merchant  had  developed  the  highest  qual- 
ities of  leadership  at  two  critical  periods  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  city  and  state,  had  headed  a  successful 
revolution  against  a  criminal  administration  of  the 
law,  and  had,  after  showing  gifts  that  in  another  day 
would  have  made  him  a  Cromwell  or  a  Simon  de 
Montfort,  quietly  surrendered  his  powers  when  his 
work  was  done,  and  settled  contentedly  back  to  the 
prosaic  business  of  buying  and  selling  goods.  I  felt 
proud  to  be  in  his  presence. 

"What  is  this  important  information?"  asked 
Coleman,  his  gray  eyes  searching  my  face  with  pen- 
etrating glance. 

"Chiefly,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick,  "that  we  are 
mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  story  of  the  purchase 
of  arms  is  false." 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  its  truth,  gentlemen,"  I 
said.  "The  conspirators  have  received  a  large  sum 
of  money,  and  have  put  a  good  part  of  it  into  guns. 
They  have,  on  my  information,  about  one  thousand 
rifles." 

This  assurance  produced  a  visible  effect  on  the 
company. 

"Where  did  they  get  this  money?"  asked  the 
doubting  voice  of  a  man  who  had  been  introduced  as 
Mr.  Partridge. 

"That's  not  the  important  point,"  said  Wharton 
Kendrick,  striking  in  smoothly.  "The  main  thing 
is  to  know  what  they  are  going  to  do  with  it." 


A    COUNCIL   OF   WAR  131 

I  understood  from  this  hint  that  I  was  to  keep  the 
name  of  Peter  Bolton  out  of  the  discussion. 

"I  have  a  little  special  information  on  that  point," 
I  said.  And  I  described  the  multiform  purposes  of 
the  Council  of  Nine  as  they  had  appeared  from  my 
investigations. 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?"  came  from  several 
of  the  assembled  magnates. 

Wharton  Kendrick  took  the  reply  out  of  my 
mouth. 

"He  has  practically  direct  communication  with 
the  conspirators,"  he  said.  "I  think  we  shall  all 
agree  that  it  is  best  not  to  mention  names." 

"Well,  this  certainly  makes  it  a  horse  of  another 
color,"  said  Partridge.  "In  the  light  of  Mr.  Hamp- 
den's  information  I  withdraw  my  objections  to  the 
plan  proposed  by  Mr.  Kendrick." 

Wharton  Kendrick  heaved  a  scarcely  perceptible 
sigh,  and  whispered  to  me,  "That  settles  it;  Part- 
ridge represents  the  Golconda  Bank,  and  the  rest 
will  follow  his  lead." 

"That  is  right,"  said  another.  "Let  us  take  no 
chances."  And  with  a  few  similar  expressions  the 
company  appeared  to  have  come  to  a  unanimous 
agreement. 

"Then,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick,  turning  to  Part- 
ridge, "I'll  put  you  down  for — " 

"For  five  hundred  thousand,"  replied  Partridge. 

"Make  it  a  million,"  said  Kendrick.  "Nelson  here 
is  going  to  stand  responsible  for  five  hundred  thou- 
sand, and  your  people  should  stand  for  more." 


132         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Well,  if  you  think  the  emergency  calls  for  it, 
you  can  count  on  a  million,"  said  Partridge. 

One  after  another  the  men  named  the  amounts  for 
which  they  would  stand  responsible,  and  Wharton 
Kendrick  jotted  down  the  figures  in  his  memoran- 
dum-book. 

"Please  make  out  your  checks,  gentlemen,"  he 
said  at  last.  "Here  is  ten  million  dollars  pledged  to 
the  committee." 

"That  will  be  enough,"  said  Coleman  with  deci- 
sion. "I  think  that  our  arrangements  cover  every 
point  where  there  can  be  a  break  in  the  markets." 

"Unless  it's  M.  &  N.,  and  the  bank  we  mentioned," 
said  Nelson. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Kendrick;  "our  arrangements 
cover  them,  too.  We've  got  to  back  them  up  till  this 
storm  is  over.  They  are  bound  to  go  some  day,  but 
if  they  go  now  there  will  be  a  smash  all  along  the 
line.  Partridge  will  see  to  getting  the  best  col- 
lateral they  have,  and  we'll  feed  them  just  enough 
to  keep  their  doors  open." 

"They  will  draw  pretty  heavily  on  the  pool  if  dis- 
order actually  starts,"  said  another. 

"Oh,"  said  Partridge,  "we  have  a  very  comfort- 
able reserve,  and  it  isn't  likely  that  there  will  be  an 
actual  outbreak." 

"Well,  we  have  prepared  for  every  emergency," 
said  a  stout  and  sleepy-looking  man  in  the  corner; 
"and  as  we're  likely  to  have  a  hard  day  of  it  to-mor- 
row, I  move  we  get  home  and  to  bed.  It's  three 
minutes  of  midnight,  now." 


A    COUNCIL   OF   WAR  133 

The  suggestion  appeared  to  be  approved,  for 
everybody  rose  with  the  breaking-up  atmosphere  that 
ends  a  gathering. 

"One  moment,"  said  Coleman,  raising  his  hand. 
"There  is  one  thing  we  have  neglected  to  discuss.  It 
is  not  impossible  that  the  constituted  authorities  will 
prove  unable  to  handle  the  disorderly  elements.  In 
case  of  need,  how  many  of  you  gentlemen  are  ready 
to  give  your  services  to  the  city  to  preserve  order?" 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  one  said : 

"Pshaw,  Coleman!  This  isn't  fifty-six!  We're 
twenty  years  older  than  we  were  then,  and  the  police 
and  the  militia  can  handle  those  fellows  if  they  make 
any  trouble." 

"I  believe,"  said  Coleman  with  deliberate  em- 
phasis, "that  we  are  standing  on  the  crust  of  a  vol- 
cano. We  should  be  prepared  to  give  our  money  and 
our  personal  services  to  the  public  safety  if  the  need 
comes." 

"There's  no  danger,"  growled  the  sleepy  man,  "so 
what's  the  use  of  worrying  about  it?  Let's  go 
home." 

"Oh,"  said  Kendrick,  "we'll  all  stand  in  if  there's 
trouble,  of  course." 

"We'll  leave  Coleman  on  guard,"  said  another 
with  a  facetious  nod.  "We'll  all  turn  out  when  he 
rings  the  bell." 

In  the  bustle  of  guests  departing,  Coleman  took 
me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  to  a  corner. 

"Do  you  know  where  these  guns  are  stored?"  he 
asked. 


134         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

I  balanced  my  obligations  to  Clark  against  the  ob- 
vious fact  that  the  publicity  given  to  the  armament 
had  relieved  him  from  chance  of  suspicion,  and  re- 
plied : 

"I  understand  that  they  were  stored  near  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Council — Blasius'  saloon — known  to 
the  police  as  the  House  of  Blazes." 

"I  think  they  should  belong  to  the  police,"  said 
Coleman  dryly.  "I  dare  say  Chief  Ellis  has  heard 
of  them,  but  I  shall  send  word  to  him  before  I  go  to 
bed." 

In  a  moment  more  Kendrick  called  me,  and  we 
bade  good  night  to  our  host. 

As  we  reached  the  Kendrick  house  the  magnate 
roused  himself  from  a  brown  study  and  said : 

"The  curmudgeon  is  a  rather  amusing  cuss, 
Hampden,  if  you  know  how  to  take  him.  I  advise 
you  to  cultivate  his  acquaintance." 

"Do  you  mean — "  I  began. 

"I  mean,"  said  Kendrick  sharply,  "that  the  closer 
you  get  to  a  man  the  more  you  find  out  about  what 
he  intends  to  do.  If  he  wants  to  pay  for  the  pleasure 
of  your  society  it  might  be  a  pity  to  deny  him  the 
privilege." 


CHAPTER  XI 

TROUBLES   IN    THE   MARKET 

Storm-signals  were  flying  in  the  financial  quarter 
of  San  Francisco.  California  and  Sansome  Streets 
were  thronged  with  men  whose  faces,  anxious,  con- 
fident, hopeful  or  despairing,  pictured  a  time  of  com- 
mercial stress.  There  was  an  unusual  bustle  about 
the  orderly  precincts  of  the  banks,  as  clerks  rushed 
in  and  out  with  the  air  of  men  who  carried  the  fate 
of  the  day  on  their  shoulders.  Bearers  of  checks 
jostled  one  another  in  their  eagerness  to  be  first  at 
the  counters  of  the  paying  teller.  The  doors  to  the 
offices  of  bank  presidents  and  cashiers,  that  on  ordi- 
nary days  opened  but  sedately  to  the  occasional  visi- 
tor, were  now  swinging  constantly  to  admit  their 
customers  in  search  of  unusual  accommodation. 
And  even  at  the  savings  banks  there  was  a  flutter  of 
uneasiness;  for  at  the  opening  hour  a  long  line  of 
timid-faced  men  and  women  had  formed  in  front  of 
the  paying  tellers'  counters. 

In  the  banking  district  this  anxious  activity  was 
orderly  and  well-mannered.  The  center  of  disturb- 
ance was  to  be  found  about  the  rival  stock  ex- 
changes on  Pine  and  Montgomery  Streets,  where 
excited  crowds  blocked  the  sidewalks  and  roadways, 
curbstone  brokers  raised  a  deafening  clamor  with 

135 


136         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

their  offers  to  buy  and  sell,  and  groups  of  individual 
traders  surged  hither  and  thither  in  endless  but 
changing  combinations.  The  shouts  followed  one  an- 
other in  short  and  rapid  volleys,  like  the  popping  of 
a  pack  of  fire-crackers,  and  as  each  vocal  explosion 
was  the  signal  for  the  dissolution  or  rearrangement 
of  a  group  of  traders,  the  human  herd  was  tossed 
about  in  waves,  eddies  and  cross-currents,  like  the 
bay  in  a  storm. 

The  granite  pile  on  Pine  Street  that  held  the  San 
Francisco  Stock  Exchange — the  "Big  Board"  as  it 
was  known  in  the  parlance  of  the  street — was  the 
origin  of  waves  of  disturbance  that  spread  to  the  re- 
motest confines  of  the  crowds.  The  flight  of  a  mes- 
senger down  the  granite  steps  would  be  followed  by 
a  roar  of  inarticulate  sound,  a  wave  of  human  mo- 
tion spreading  out  in  a  circle  of  eddies,  individual 
groups  colliding,  coalescing,  separating  into  new 
combinations  in  a  mad  confusion  of  excited  voices, 
till  its  impulse  was  lost  on  the  confines  of  the  crowd 
or  whirled  aside  into  the  scores  of  bucket-shops  that 
lined  the  adjacent  streets.  And  similar  waves  of  ex- 
citement spread  in  smaller  volume  from  the  rival  and 
lesser  exchanges  on  Montgomery  and  Leidesdorff 
Streets. 

The  developing  strength  of  the  agitators,  and  the 
rumors  of  the  arming  of  the  turbulent  elements,  had 
roused  a  spirit  of  uneasiness  in  the  city  that  was  not 
far  from  panic.  As  a  consequence  of  their  fears,  men 
were  rushing  to  protect  their  business  interests,  loans 
were  called  in,  collections  were  pressed,  lenders 


TROUBLES    IN    THE    MARKET      137 

became  wary,  and  weak  holders  of  stocks  were 
forced  to  sell.  With  these  conditions  overshadowing 
the  market,  professional  traders  in  stocks  became 
fierce  and  aggressive  bears,  and  hammered  at  prices 
with  every  weapon  that  money  and  mendacity  put  at 
their  hand. 

Wharton  Kendrick  was  early  at  his  office,  and  I 
sought  him  for  directions. 

"Look  after  the  other  fellow,"  was  his  brusk  com- 
mand. "That  is  your  part  of  the  business.  Let  me 
know  what  Peter  Bolton  does.  Send  me  reports 
every  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  till  the  exchanges  close. 
I'll  be  here  all  day." 

Having  satisfied  myself  that  my  messenger  sys- 
tem was  in  good  working  order,  I  awaited  the  first 
move  of  the  enemy.  It  came  shortly  after  the  open- 
ing of  the  stock  exchanges.  I  received  word  that 
Peter  Bolton  had  started  for  the  "Big  Board ;"  so  I 
made  my  way  thither  to  observe  for  myself  what 
sort  of  activity  he  might  be  about. 

As  I  was  edging  my  way  forward  between  the 
shouting,  tossing  eddies  that  divided  the  crowd,  I 
felt  a  tap  on  the  shoulder,  and  turned  to  find  Parks 
beside  me. 

"A  shameful  sight !"  he  shouted  in  my  ear.  "Sad 
and  shameful!"  And  he  gave  a  vigorous  shake  to 
his  head  that  put  his  shock  of  hair  all  a-quiver.  "It's 
like  a  round-up  of  helpless  cattle  driven  to  the 
slaughter-house.  It's  worse  than  shameful.  It's 
damnable !" 

"More  like  the  dairy,  isn't  it  ?"  I  asked.  "They  are 


138         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

like  cows  brought  up  to  be  milked,  and  afterward 
turned  loose  to  accumulate  a  new  supply." 

This  view  of  the  market  brought  an  angry  flame 
of  color  into  Parks'  face. 

"Worse  than  that — worse  than  that !"  he  cried  in- 
dignantly. "It's  like  those  African  fellows  that  cut 
a  steak  out  of  their  live  cattle  and  then  turn  them 
out  to  grow  another.  Those  men  there,"  and  he 
shook  his  fist  at  the  granite  front  of  the  Stock  Ex- 
change, "and  those  men  there,"  and  he  shook  his  fist 
at  the  El  Dorado  Bank  as  the  nearest  representative 
of  speculative  finance,  "are  vampires  that  grow  by 
sucking  the  blood  of  the  people." 

"The  people  appear  to  be  willing  victims,"  I  sug- 
gested, looking  at  the  eager  if  apprehensive  faces 
about  us. 

"By  heavens,  no !"  cried  Parks,  in  his  high  excited 
voice.  "They  are  driven  into  the  shambles  by  their 
poverty — by  the  inequalities  and  injustices  in  the 
distribution  of  wealth — as  surely  as  if  they  had  been 
driven  by  whips  or  bayonets."  He  glared  about 
him  as  though  he  sought  contradiction.  "They  are 
here  in  the  hope  of  wresting  from  knavery  and 
rapacity  the  share  of  the  earth's  products  of  which 
they  have  been  despoiled." 

"I  suspect,"  was  my  scoffing  reply,  "that  they  are 
here  in  the  hope  of  doing  exactly  what  the  owners 
of  the  El  Dorado  Bank  have  done — of  taking  all 
they  can  get  and  a  little  more." 

"Sir,"  said  Parks,  "you  lose  sight  of  the  mass  in 
looking  at  the  individual.  The  individual  has  been 


TROUBLES    IN    THE    MARKET      139 

corrupted  by  a  false  system  of  society  into  striving 
for  unjust  gains.  But  the  mass  calls  only  for  simple 
justice." 

"Well,  Parks,"  I  returned,  "I  admire  your  op- 
timism, though  I  can't  say  as  much  for  your  judg- 
ment." 

"Admire  it  or  not,  sir,  as  you  like,"  said  Parks. 
"That  will  not  alter  facts.  But  this,"  he  added,  shak- 
ing his  fist  again  at  the  frowning  front  of  the  Ex- 
change, "is  one  of  the  iniquities  that  we  shall  sweep 
away." 

"If  we  can  judge  by  the  patronage  it  is  getting 
to-day  it  won't  have  to  close  very  soon,"  was  my 
comment. 

"Sir,"  said  Parks,  "the  day  when  it  will  be  closed 
is  nearer  than  you  imagine.  Our  denunciations  of 
the  robbers  of  the  stock  exchanges  excite  more  ap- 
plause than  anything  except  our  denunciations  of  the 
Chinese." 

"I  should  think  it  quite  likely.  Men  like  to  hear 
hard  words  said  of  those  who  succeed  where  they 
themselves  have  failed.  But  the  applause  means 
nothing." 

"It  means,"  said  Parks,  "that  we  shall  have  the 
masses  behind  us  when  we  give  the  word  to  abolish 
these  iniquities." 

"Abolish  them  ?  Pooh !  It  would  take  a  despotism 
to  do  that." 

"A  despotism?  No.  A  revolution.  The  revolu- 
tion that  will  bring  equality  to  the  people  is  all  that 
is  needed." 


140         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"And  you  still  think  your  revolution  is  coming?" 
I  asked. 

"Not  the  slightest  doubt  of  it."'  And  Parks  gave 
a  mysterious  nod  as  though  he  could  tell  many 
things  if  he  would,  and  then  closed  his  mouth 
tightly  as  though  tortures  could  not  wring  another 
word  from  him. 

At  this  moment  I  caught  sight  of  Peter  Bolton 
intent  on  pressing  a  way  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Exchange.  His  gaunt  face  was  drawn  into  harsh, 
determined  lines,  his  sharp  chin  was  thrust  forward, 
and  his  whole  attitude  was  an  expression  of  grim 
purpose.  I  lost  sight  of  him  in  the  struggle  of  mak- 
ing my  way  through  the  throng,  and  I  had  reached 
the  door  before  I  brought  him  under  my  eye  again. 
He  was  pausing  in  the  lobby  to  pass  a  word  with  an 
alert,  bright-eyed  man  whom  I  knew  as  a  broker, 
and  I  surmised  that  he  was  giving  orders  in  regard 
to  sales  or  purchases  of  stocks. 

Inside  the  Board-room  the  clamor  was  more  in- 
sistent and  disturbing  than  on  the  street.  The  con- 
fined space  compressed  the  waves  of  sound  till  they 
struck  upon  the  ear  with  a  force  that  benumbed  my 
unaccustomed  nerves.  The  cries,  shouts,  and  yells 
of  the  brokers  bidding  for  stocks  or  making  their 
offerings  came  only  as  a  confused  roar. 

Except  for  the  noise,  the  scene  on  the  floor  of  the 
Exchange  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  magnified 
foot-ball  scrimmage.  The  scores  of  excited  brokers 
were  rushing  hither  and  thither  within  the  railed  pit, 
shouting,  screaming,  waving  their  arms,  shaking 


TROUBLES    IN    THE    MARKET      141 

their  fists,  forming  groups  about  a  half-dozen  of 
their  fellows,  flinging  one  another  aside  to  get  to  the 
center,  struggling  with  all  signs  of  personal  combat, 
and  then  separating  a  moment  later  to  form  new 
groups.  The  dissolving  combinations,  the  quick 
rushes,  the  kaleidoscopic  changes  among  the  circling 
men,  were  as  confusing  to  the  eye  as  the  swelling  dis- 
sonance of  shouts  was  deafening  to  the  ear. 

The  spectators  of  this  tournament  of  riot  made 
themselves  a  part  of  the  brabble.  They  felt  all  the 
interest  of  those  unarmed  citizens  who  watched  a 
battle  which  was  to  settle  the  fate  of  their  goods 
and  households.  They  were  mostly  speculators,  win- 
ning or  losing  money  with  each  burst  of  sound  that 
rose  from  the  bedlam  dance  in  the  pit.  They  filled 
the  seats  and  crowded  the  aisles,  and  added  their 
quota  of  outcries  to  the  uproar,  now  shouting  in- 
structions to  their  brokers,  now  bargaining  among 
themselves,  and  now  voicing  an  exclamation  of 
satisfaction  or  discomposure  as  the  stocks  changed 
prices  at  the  call. 

Peter  Bolton  dropped  into  a  seat  that  had  been 
reserved  for  him  at  the  rail,  and  watched  the  scene 
with  keen  and  wary  eye.  It  was  plain  that  he  had 
been  brought  there  by  no  idle  curiosity.  For  the 
first  time  in  the  knowledge  of  the  frequenters  of  the 
Exchange  he  took  an  open  part  in  the  trading, 
called  brokers  to  him  at  every  turn  of  the  battle  of 
the  pit,  and  gave  his  directions  with  confident  brev- 
ity. 

The  Exchange  was  not  altogether  a  novelty  to. 


142         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

me,  and  after  I  had  become  accustomed  to  the  con- 
fusion of  sight  and  sound,  I  had  no  difficulty  in 
discerning  the  progress  of  the  struggle  that  was 
going  on  before  me.  It  needed  no  broker  to  tell  me 
that  a  hot  financial  battle  was  being  fought  in  that 
confined  arena.  A  novice  in  trade  could  have  seen 
that  there  was  a  determined  effort  to  break  the  mar- 
ket, met  by  an  equally  determined  effort  to  uphold 
it.  The  attacking  force  had  strong  support.  The 
alarms  and  anxieties  caused  by  the  signs  of  ap- 
proaching trouble  had  brought  into  the  market  the 
stocks  held  by  small  margins,  those  of  frightened 
investors,  and  those  held  by  speculative  merchants 
who  found  their  credits  suddenly  shortened.  The 
rumors  of  coming  disorder  had  also  brought  to  the 
bear  side  the  professional  traders  who  foresaw  a 
probable  fall  in  prices,  and  by  sales  for  future  de- 
livery did  their  utmost  to  bring  it  about  for  their 
own  profit. 

But  there  were  strong  influences  on  the  other 
side.  And  though  each  call  of  stock  was  followed 
by  an  avalanche  of  offers,  I  soon  observed  that  every 
stock  after  a  sharp  decline  was  brought  back  to 
something  near  its  former  quotations.  I  surmised 
that  the  steadying  hand  of  the  syndicate  was  at 
work.  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  had  held  his  midnight  session  with  the  finan- 
cial barons  of  the  city. 

As  the  session  wore  away  with  fierce  assault 
and  resolute  defense,  with  detonations  of  cries 
and  shouts,  with  surges  and  clashes  of  conflicting 


TROUBLES    IN    THE    MARKET      143 

factions  of  traders,  I  thought  I  saw  an  air  of  disap- 
pointment settling  on  the  face  of  Peter  Bolton.  He 
spoke  sharply  to  the  brokers  that  from  time  to  time 
he  summoned  about  him.  These  conferences  were 
followed  by  renewed  activities  and  fresh  outbreaks 
of  sound  among  the  gyrating,  dissolving  groups 
upon  the  floor ;  but  after  a  flutter  of  changing  prices 
the  quotations  returned  to  the  level  from  which  they 
started. 

The  session  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  the  throng 
of  men  poured  out  of  the  Exchange,  bearing  on  their 
faces  the  record  of  success  and  failure,  of  excite- 
ment and  fatigue,  that  had  been  scored  by  the  morn- 
ing's work.  But  so  far  as  the  official  figures  of  the 
session  showed  it  might  have  been  a  time  of  stag- 
nation instead  of  fierce  battle.  The  closing  prices 
were  not  a  point  away  from  those  that  ruled  at  the 
close  of  the  previous  day. 

"The  El  Dorado  Bank  has  run  against  a  snag 
this  time,"  said  one  broker  to  his  neighbor,  as  he 
wiped  his  perspiring  face  and  adjusted  his  limp 
collar. 

"The  El  Dorado  Bank  isn't  the  only  one  to  feel 
a  little  sick  over  the  morning's  business,"  said  his 
companion,  with  a  toss  of  his  thumb  toward  the 
bowed  figure  of  Peter  Bolton  huddled  in  the  seat 
by  the  rail  and  contemplating  with  vacant  intentness 
the  floor  of  the  deserted  pit.  "Old  Tightfist  must 
have  dropped  a  pile  of  money  here  to-day." 

"He?"  exclaimed  his  companion.  "Not  much  he 
didn't  He  always  caught  the  turn  at  just  the  right 


144         THE   APPLE   OF    DISCORD 

minute.  When  the  books  are  made  up  he's  as  likely 
to  be  ahead  as  behind." 

"He  has  the  devil's  own  luck,"  said  the  first  bro- 
ker. 

"He  found  out  what  he  was  bucking-  against  early 
in  the  game,"  said  the  other,  "and  after  that  he 
didn't  need  anybody  to  tell  him  when  to  get  out." 

As  the  throng  passed  out,  Peter  Bolton  still  sat 
in  his  seat  by  the  rail.  A  grim  air  of  reflection  was 
on  his  face,  the  lines  of  stern  determination  still 
drew  his  chin  forward  and  his  lips  back,  and  he 
studied  the  floor  of  the  Exchange  as  though  it  were 
a  blackboard  on  which  his  problem  was  being 
worked  out.  Then  at  last  he  slowly  rose,  and  with 
a  sour  shake  of  his  head  walked  toward  the  door. 
I  turned  my  eyes  on  the  clock  in  the  hope  of  escap- 
ing his  observation;  but  as  he  came  by  my  seat  he 
halted. 

"So,  young  man,"  he  said,  with  the  compressed 
force  of  anger  audible  in  his  sarcastic  drawl,  "you 
think  you  have  beat  me,  do  you? — you  and  that 
smirking  scoundrel  you  call  Kendrick !"  There  was 
the  concentrated  essence  of  venom  in  his  tone  that 
testified  to  the  depth  of  his  hatred  and  chagrin. 

His  words  were  an  admission  that  I  was  quick 
to  understand.  In  a  moment  my  mind  flashed  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  whole  enginery  of  rumor  and 
riot  had  been  set  in  motion  by  this  man  to  serve  the 
purposes  of  his  malignity.  He  had  sought  to  pull 
down  the  commercial  edifice  of  San  Francisco  in 
the  hope  of  burying  Wharton  Kendrick  in  the  ruins. 


TROUBLES    IN    THE    MARKET      145 

The  design  was  the  worthy  offspring  of  the 
malevolent  mind  before  me,  but  it  was  rather  his  in- 
sulting reference  to  my  client  than  the  wickedness 
of  the  thing  he  had  attempted  to  do  that  stirred  me 
with  anger.  A  harsh  answer  was  on  my  lips,  but  it 
was  checked  by  the  sudden  recollection  of  Wharton 
Kendrick's  advice  to  "cultivate  Peter  Bolton's  ac- 
quaintance." 

Accepting  this  recommendation  as  a  command, 
I  bowed  with  a  smile  as  sarcastic  as  his  own,  and  re- 
plied cheerfully: 

"You  do  seem  to  have  made  a  failure  of  it,  Mr. 
Bolton." 

A  flash  of  anger  came  into  the  pale  blue  eyes,  a 
shade  of  red  flamed  in  the  sallow  cheeks,  and  Peter 
Bolton  broke  forth  into  passionate  speech : 

"Maybe  you've  beat  me  this  time.  Maybe  you've 
had  things  your  own  way  for  once.  But  the  fight 
isn't  over  yet.  There's  plenty  of  it  coming,  and 
I'll  see  that  you  get  it.  Let  that  scoundrel  Kendrick 
look  out  for  himself.  He  can  hire  whipper-snap- 
pers"— by  this  term  I  judged  that  Peter  Bolton  re- 
ferred to  me,  and  I  was  pleased  to  think  that  he 
credited  his  discomfiture  in  part  to  my  humble  ef- 
forts— "he  can  hire  a  line  of  whipper-snappers  that 
would  reach  from  here  to  the  ferries,  but  he  can't 
save  himself.  I'll  drag  him  down.  I'll  strip  him  to 
the  last  rag.  When  I  get  through  with  him  he  won't 
have  a  dollar  to  his  name.  There  won't  be  a  foot 
of  land  or  one  brick  on  top  of  another  that  he 
can  call  his  own."  Peter  Bolton  spoke  more  rapidly 


146         THE   APPLE   OF    DISCORD 

than  I  had  supposed  was  possible  to  him,  and  his 
face  flamed  with  the  wrath  that  had  carried  his 
tongue  away. 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  it,"  I  said  politely.  "I  hope  it 
won't  happen  before  I  collect  my  month's  salary." 

Bolton  looked  at  me  venomously  from  his  deep- 
set  eyes,  and  his  thin  lips  curled  with  sarcastic  lines. 

"You've  earned  your  salary  this  month,"  he  said, 
with  a  return  to  his  harsh  drawl,  "but  it  doesn't  fol- 
low that  you'll  get  it.  You  beat  me  this  time,  but  it 
isn't  the  end." 

"You  did  make  rather  a  mess  of  it,"  I  admitted. 
"You  ought  to  have  consulted  somebody  about  it — 
an  attorney,  for  instance.'1 

I  spoke  idly,  without  special  meaning;  but  at  my 
words  Bolton's  face  softened  into  a  glance  of  sar- 
donic humor. 

"Oh,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  don't  know  but  what  you 
are  right.  Come  around  to  my  office  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  we'll  talk  about  the  fee."  He  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion that  I  was  ready  to  accept  a  bribe,  and  he 
continued :  "It'll  be  anything  in  reason,  young  man, 
anything  in  reason." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  LOTTERY   TICKET 

In  the  midst  of  the  lull  that  followed  the  failure 
of  Peter  Bolton's  assault  on  the  fortifications  of 
commerce,  I  was  surprised  to  find  on  my  office  desk 
one  morning  the  following  letter : 

RESPECTFUL  SIR: 

to  yours  we  this  day  instructed  to  remind  you  that  your 
presence  is  more  than  agreeable.  Having  placed  to  your  credit 
a  money  sum  drawn  according  to  ticket,  should  be  your  wor- 
shipful servant  to  have  presented  for  payment. 

As  ever  your  faithful, 

KWAN  LUEY  &  Co. 

This  missive,  written  in  a  beautiful  Spencerian 
hand,  was  for  some  minutes  a  puzzle.  I  read  over 
its  tangle-worded  lines  two  or  three  times  before  it 
dawned  upon  me  that  it  must  concern  the  lottery 
ticket  that  I  had  purchased  in  Peter  Bolton's  office. 
The  ticket  had  been  handed  to  me  with  the  promise 
that  I  should  have  "heap  big  money,"  and  I  drew 
from  the  letter's  flowery  but  uncertain  language  the 
inference  that  the  promise  had  been  fulfilled.  If 
confirmation  had  been  necessary,  the  letter  confirmed 
the  testimony  of  my  eyes  when  they  had  assured  me 
that  the  seller  of  the  ticket  was  Big  Sam.  It  was  im- 
possible that  any  other  Chinese  would  have  known 
that  I  was  the  holder  of  the  paper,  or  would  have 

147 


THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

procured  the  sending  of  the  derangement  of  words 
that  had  come  over  the  name  of  Kwan  Luey.  As 
nothing  more  important  called  for  my  attention  I 
indulged  my  curiosity  by  setting  out  at  once  for 
Kwan  Lucy's  store. 

Kwan  Luey  showed  himself  superior  to  any  nar- 
row prejudices  in  regard  to  the  objects  in  which  it 
was  fitting  for  a  merchant  to  trade.  In  one  window 
he  exhibited  a  fine  collection  of  silks,  ebony  carvings, 
sandal-wood  ornaments,  and  figured  Chinese  coats. 
In  the  other  he  had  piled  all  manner  of  fine  porce- 
lain, ivory  and  lacquered  ware.  The  counters  in  the 
front  part  of  the  store  showed  a  similar  division  of 
salable  goods.  Farther  back  could  be  seen  mats  of 
rice,  boxes  of  tea,  bags  of  Chinese  roots,  and  piles 
of  mysterious  and  uncanny  Chinese  edibles.  In  his 
office  clerks  were  counting  Mexican  dollars  and 
packing  them  in  stout  boxes  for  shipping  to  China, 
the  earnings  of  his  countrymen.  The  closed  rear 
rooms,  I  surmised,  were  devoted  to  the  operation  of 
the  two  or  three  lotteries  he  was  reputed  to  control. 

Kwan  Luey  himself  stood  just  outside  his  office, 
a  short,  well-fed,  well-dressed  Chinaman,  whose 
rounded,  dark-brown  face  denoted  a  cheerful  mind. 
I  called  him  by  name. 

"What  you  wan'?"  he  asked  suspiciously,  pre- 
pared to  deny  his  identity  if  my  errand  were  not  to 
his  liking. 

I  introduced  myself,  and  as  my  name  brought  no 
sign  of  enlightenment  to  his  face,  I  presented  his  let- 
ter as  a  card  of  identification. 


THE    LOTTERY   TICKET  149 

He  gravely  read  it  with  all  the  pride  of  author- 
ship kindling  in  his  eye,  and  as  gravely  handed  it 
back  to  me. 

"How  you  like  him,  eh?  Plitty  good  letteh,  eh?" 

I  assured  him  that  I  could  not  have  bettered  it 
myself. 

Kwan  Luey  gave  a  gratified  smile. 

"I  lite  him,"  he  explained.  "I  go  Mission  school 
fo'  yeah.  I  leahn  lite,  all  same  copy-book.  I  all  same 
beat  teacheh,  eh  ?" 

"You  are  a  Christian  Chinaman,  then,  Kwan 
Luey?" 

" You  Clistian?"  he  asked. 

"I  hope  so." 

He  gave  me  a  sly  glance,  and  said : 

"I  Clistian  Chinaman  when  Clistian  man  wan' 
buy  goods." 

"But  not  when  Clistian  man  wants  money?"  I 
asked. 

Kwan  Luey  smiled  the  bland  smile  of  China,  and 
made  no  direct  reply. 

"You  wan'  money,  eh?"  he  said.  "You  heap 
lucky,  eh?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know." 

"You  catch-em  ticket  ?" 

I  produced  the  square  of  paper  I  had  received 
from  Big  Sam. 

"What  does  that  say?"  I  asked. 

Kwan  Luey  took  the  paper,  and  drew  his  eyelids 
together  till  there  showed  but  two  narrow  slanting 
slits  between  them  as  he  pretended  to  examine  it. 


ISO         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Him  say — him  say — I  look-em  book  and  sec 
what  him  say."  And  with  his  bland  smile  still  ren- 
dering his  face  innocent  of  meaning,  he  retired  to 
his  office.  He  reappeared  a  moment  later. 

"Him  say  you  dlaw  two  hund'  fitty  dollah,"  was 
his  announcement. 

The  comedy  of  the  lottery  ticket  was  being  played 
out  to  the  end.  I  was  convinced  that  the  paper  was 
a  direct  order  from  Big  Sam  to  pay  me  the  money, 
but  as  I  looked  into  the  brown  mask  of  Kwan  Lucy's 
face  I  recognized  the  folly  of  attempting  to  draw 
from  him  any  word  that  he  was  unwilling  to  speak. 
But  as  he  counted  twelve  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces 
and  a  ten  into  my  hand  I  could  not  forbear  saying : 

"And  what  does  Big  Sam  expect  me  to  do  with 
the  money?" 

I  thought  I  detected  a  slight  movement  of  Kwan 
Lucy's  eyes — a  momentary  contraction  of  the  lids, 
as  though  a  beam  of  light  had  flashed  across  them 
and  was  gone.  It  was  the  only  sign  of  surprise  I 
could  detect 

"You  sabby  Big  Sam?"  he  asked  blandly. 

"Yes,  I  sabby  Big  Sam." 

"And  you  no  sabby  what  to  do  with  you'  money  ? 
You  no  sabby  dlink — all  same  Clistian?  You  no 
sabby  hoss-lace  ?  You  no  sabby  pokah  ?"  And  at  this 
enumeration  of  the  white  man's  facilities  for  dis- 
posing of  superfluous  wealth  he  laughed  with  the 
ironic  laugh  of  China. 

I  suggested  that  Big  Sam  might  have  intended 
another  destination  for  the  money. 


THE   LOTTERY    TICKET  151 

"Oh,"  said  Kwan  Luey  innocently,  "you  likee 
Big  Sam  tell  you  what  do?  I  likee  send  letteh  to 
Big  Sam.  You  takee  letteh,  him  tell  you  what  do." 

The  letter  was  already  in  his  hand,  and  he  passed 
it  to  me  as  gravely  as  though  the  coincidence  was 
but  one  of  the  common  events  of  life. 

"I  see  that  you  were  prepared  for  me,"  I  said, 
with  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  my  voice,  and  wondered 
how  Kwan  Luey  would  have  brought  the  errand 
about  if  I  had  not  served  his  purpose  by  introducing 
Big  Sam's  name. 

The  Chinaman  smiled  placidly. 

"I  no  sabby,"  he  said.  "Good-by.  Some  day  you 
wan'  some  nice  thing,  you  come  Kwan  Lucy's 
stoah." 

I  drew  the  conclusion  that  Big  Sam  wished  to  see 
me,  and  had  arranged  that  Kwan  Luey  was  to  find 
a  pretext  for  sending  me  to  his  office.  Why  he 
should  not  himself  have  sent  word  of  his  wish,  I 
could  not  guess,  unless  it  was  a  part  of  his  policy 
to  avoid  direct  paths  where  indirection  could  be 
made  to  serve. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  walked  into  the  store  be- 
neath Big  Sam's  residence  and  put  foot  on  the  dingy 
stair  that  led  to  his  office.  A  short,  stout  Chinaman 
tried  to  halt  me  with  a  "What  you  wan'?"  but  I 
pushed  him  aside  and  passed  up  the  steps.  I  knew 
my  way  through  the  semi-darkness  of  the  passage, 
and  stumbled  upward  without  wish  for  guidance  or 
thought  of  danger.  I  had  not  mounted  half  the  as- 
cent before  I  heard  something  of  a  commotion  above 


152         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

me — the  shutting  of  a  door,  a  scurry  of  feet,  and  a 
rumbling  sound  as  though  a  heavy  table  had  been 
moved  across  the  floor.  I  amused  myself  with  the 
thought  that  I  had  caught  Big  Sam's  household  un- 
prepared for  visitors  and  imagined  the  flight  of  the 
feminine  portion  of  his  family  at  the  sound  of  my 
approaching  footfall. 

I  reached  the  landing.  The  hall  was  deserted,  and, 
turning  toward  the  building's  front,  I  knocked  at 
the  one  door  that  led  from  the  passage.  There  was 
no  answer,  and  I  knocked  again.  As  a  third  knock 
brought  no  response  I  turned  the  knob  and  opened 
the  door  for  myself.  To  my  surprise  Big  Sam's 
room  of  state  had  disappeared.  In  place  of  the  large 
and  handsome  office,  with  its  profusion  of  ornamen- 
tation and  its  oriental  furniture,  I  found  myself 
looking  into  a  narrow  passageway  between  blank 
walls.  I  looked  about  the  hall  with  the  thought  that 
I  must  have  mistaken  the  door.  But  there  was  no 
other  entrance  to  be  seen,  and  I  looked  again  in 
perplexity  at  the  passage,  unwilling  to  believe  the 
evidence  of  my  eyes.  As  I  turned  to  make  sure  of 
the  transformation  1  heard  a  click  as  of  a  spring 
lock  snapped,  a  smart  push  at  my  back  sent  me  stag- 
gering forward,  and  the  door  banged  behind  me. 

It  took  but  a  moment  to  recover  myself  and  face 
about.  But  I  was  too  late.  The  door  had  been  se- 
curely locked.  A  few  blows  on  the  panels  sufficed  to 
assure  me  that  it  was  of  too  solid  construction  to 
yield  to  anything  less  powerful  than  an  ax;  and 
though  the  frame  rattled  at  my  efforts,  I  saw  that 


THE   LOTTERY   TICKET  153 

I  was  a  prisoner,  unless  I  could  find  some  other 
way  of  egress.  I  spared  the  door  the  kicks  and 
blows  that  were  called  for  by  my  first  impulse.  If 
I  had  been  fool  enough  to  get  into  this  trap,  I  had 
at  least  sense  enough  to  recognize  that  I  should  not 
better  myself  by  knocking  the  skin  off  my  knuckles 
in  the  effort  to  attract  attention.  The  persons  whose 
ears  I  could  reach  did  not  need  to  be  informed  of 
my  presence.  They  had  attended  to  the  little  detail 
of  putting  me  there,  and  might  be  assumed  to  be 
aware  of  the  honor  I  was  doing  them  without  fur- 
ther demonstration  of  the  fact. 

I  turned  to  look  once  more  at  my.  prison.  It  was 
hardly  five  feet  wide,  and  might  have  been  thirty 
feet  long,  and  appeared  to  turn  a  sharp  corner  and 
lead  toward  the  rear  of  the  building.  Evidently  I 
was  at  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  labyrinths  of 
Chinatown,  famous  in  police  reports. 

Up  to  this  moment  I  had  felt  no  fear  at  my  situ- 
ation. It  seemed  indeed  to  be  something  of  a  prac- 
tical joke  at  which  I  could  afford  to  laugh.  I  had 
evidently  wandered  into  the  wrong  building,  been 
mistaken  for  a  detective,  or  a  tax  collector,  or  some 
equally  unpleasant  person,  and  had  been  turned  in 
here  out  of  the  way  of  doing  mischief.  I  had  but  to 
reveal  the  object  of  my  visit — provided  I  could  find 
anybody  to  reveal  it  to — and  I  should  be  sent  on 
my  way  with  apologies.  But  some  remembrance  of 
the  gruesome  tales  of  the  deeds  that  had  been  done 
in  these  labyrinths  suggested  that  the  sooner  I  found 
speech  with  some  one,  the  better  chance  of  safety  I 


154         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

should  have.  I  was  about  to  venture  down  the  pas- 
sage in  search  of  a  guide  when  I  was  startled  to  hear 
a  voice  speaking  in  my  ear  in  perfect  English : 

"If  Mr.  Hampden  will  have  the  patience  to  wait  a 
moment,  he  will  be  welcome." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Big  Sam,  and  I  looked  about 
me  with  the  thought  that  I  should  find  him  at  my 
side.  But  I  was  still  the  only  tenant  of  the  passage, 
and  in  perplexity  I  scanned  the  walls  and  ceiling. 
At  a  second  glance  my  eye  lighted  upon  a  small 
bull's-eye  of  glass  set  in  the  wall.  It  doubtless  served 
as  an  observatory  from  which  suspicious  characters 
might  be  examined,  and  some  arrangement  of  speak- 
ing tubes  gave  communication  by  voice. 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  as  I  made  these  observa- 
tions. "I  am  in  no  hurry." 

I  had  scarce  spoken  when  a  part  of  the  wall  swung 
back,  and  Big  Sam  stood  in  the  opening. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   WISDOM    OF    HIS   ANCESTORS 

Big  Sam  was  dressed  in  a  long  dark  robe  figured 
with  fantastic  markings  in  gold  thread,  and,  as  he 
stood  in  the  opening  in  the  wall,  had  the  appearance 
of  an  astrologer  who  took  himself  seriously.  His 
face  wore  a  grave  smile,  and  he  bowed,  as  though 
he  were  receiving  me  under  the  most  conventional 
circumstances. 

"Step  this  way,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Hampden,"  he 
said  with  quiet  dignity. 

I  hastened  to  quit  the  bare  and  narrow  prison, 
and  was  astonished  to  find  myself  amid  the  oriental 
splendor  of  Big  Sam's  room  of  state. 

"I  ask  your  pardon  for  the  somewhat  unceremo- 
nious welcome  you  have  had,"  said  Big  Sam,  mo- 
tioning me  to  a  chair,  and  taking  his  seat  behind  the 
great  carved  desk. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  I  said.  "I  suppose  it's  your 
customary  way  of  paying  honor  to  distinguished 
guests." 

Big  Sam  gave  my  pleasantry  a  dignified  smile. 

"We  have  to  be  prepared  for  more  than  one  kind 
of  visitor,"  he  said.  "Perhaps  it  is  unnecessary  to 
call  your  attention  to  the  circumstance  that  you 
made  no  saving  of  time  when  you  declined  to  give 

155 


156         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

your  name  and  business  to  the  man  who  met  you  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs.  It  is  a  mere  detail,  but  on  your 
next  visit  you  will  find  a  shorter  way  to  this  room 
by  sending  up  your  name." 

"I  shall  take  advantage  of  the  permission,  but  I 
didn't  suppose  it  necessary." 

"These  are  troublous  times,"  said  Big  Sam,  "and 
I  have  more  than  one  very  good  reason  to  take  pre- 
cautions." 

"I  might  suppose  so  from  the  change  you  have 
made  in  the  entrance  to  your  rooms,"  I  returned. 

Big  Sam  gave  me  a  quick  glance. 

"The  change  is  more  apparent  than  real,"  he 
said.  Then,  as  if  the  subject  were  dismissed,  he 
turned  the  conversation  abruptly.  "I  believe  you 
wished  to  see  me." 

The  attempt  to  put  me  in  the  position  of  seeking 
him,  instead  of  being  the  one  sought,  irritated  me 
more  than  the  rude  reception  I  had  met  on  my  ar- 
rival. 

"I  came,"  I  said  sharply,  "because  I  had  reason 
to  suppose  that  you  had  something  to  say  to  me." 

"I  ?"  said  Big  Sam  in  polite  surprise. 

"Yes.  I  have  just  received  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  on  the  order  you  gave  me  the  other  day, 
and,  for  one  thing,  I'd  like  to  know  what  to  do  with 
it." 

"On  an  order  from  me?"  inquired  Big  Sam 
suavely. 

There  was  only  the  blank  "no-sabby"  mask  of 
China  on  his  face. 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     157 

"Yes,"  I  replied  shortly.  "If  you've  forgotten 
our  interview  in  Peter  Bolton's  office,  maybe  this 
will  remind  you."  And  I  laid  before  him  the  sheet 
of  paper  I  had  received  from  Kwan  Luey. 

Big  Sam  glanced  at  it,  and  I  thought  I  saw  be- 
hind the  veil  of  his  eyes  the  shadow  of  a  frown.  But 
if  it  was  there,  it  was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  he  re- 
plied blandly : 

"Ah,  you  have  proved  fortunate  in  the  lottery, 
then." 

"I  was  paid  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,"  was 
my  non-committal  answer. 

"I  congratulate  you  on  your  good  luck." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said  sarcastically.  "And  now  I 
am  awaiting  my  instructions." 

"Why,"  said  Big  Sam  slowly,  "if  you  have  any 
scruples  about  keeping  it  for  yourself,  you  might  ap- 
ply it  to  the  expenses  of  the  girl  you  have  taken  in 
charge." 

"That  was  what  I  was  waiting  for,"  I  said.  I  did 
not  share  Big  Sam's  pleasure  in  reaching  results  by 
indirect  roads,  and  spoke  impatiently.  "Is  that  all 
you  had  to  say  ?" 

"I  believe,"  said  Big  Sam  with  ironic  courtesy, 
"that  I  have  some  speech  still  due  me.  Unless  I  am 
much  mistaken  I  have  received  no  report  of  a 
certain  girl  since  I  delivered  her  into  your  hands. 
Possibly  I  am  wrong  in  supposing  that  the  circum- 
stances give  me  any  rights." 

"I  dare  say  I  owe  you  an  apology,"  I  said,  with 
swift  repentance  of  my  show  of  temper.  "But  I 


158         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

understood  from  what  you  said  in  Mr.  Bolton's 
office  that  you  were  in  no  pressing  haste  to  hear 
from  her." 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  have  no  recollection  of  a  meeting 
in  Mr.  Bolton's  office,"  said  Big  Sam  dryly.  "We 
shall  get  on  faster  if  you  will  kindly  assume  that  it 
did  not  take  place." 

The  "no-sabby"  mask  covered  his  face,  as  impene- 
trable as  the  blank  walls  of  the  passageway  itself. 

"As  you  like,"  I  said.  "Then,  here  is  my  belated 
report."  And  I  gave  a  brief  account  of  the  events 
that  had  followed  the  rescue  of  Moon  Ying.  At  the 
mention  of  her  wound,  Big  Sam  looked  grave,  and 
when  I  had  done  he  said : 

"I  had  received  information  that  something  of 
the  kind  had  happened,  but  your  silence  gave  me 
chance  to  hope  that  my  informant  was  mistaken." 

"No  doubt  I  ought  to  have  reported  to  you  at  once. 
I  can  only  offer  apologies  for  my  neglect." 

Big  Sam  gravely  bowed  in  pardon  of  my  remiss- 
ness. 

"It  is  a  very  awkward  affair,"  he  said.  "And  it 
will  prove  much  more  awkward  if  she  dies." 

"She  is  now  out  of  danger." 

"I  trust  so.  Her  death  would  send  the  tongs  at 
each  other's  throats." 

"And  at  yours  ?" 

"I  should  find  it  necessary  to  be  absent  from  the 
city  for  some  months,"  he  said  quietly. 

"You  might  look  on  it  in  the  light  of  a  vacation," 
I  suggested. 


WISDOM    OF   HIS    ANCESTORS     159 

"Unfortunately  it  is  of  the  last  importance  that 
I  should  be  here  through  the  coming  months." 

"I  presume  that  I  am  not  expected  to  understand 
why." 

"If  you  have  kept  your  eyes  open,  you  may  have 
some  idea  of  the  reason."  He  spoke  with  a  tinge  of 
sarcasm  in  his  tone. 

"Oh,  a  man  can  not  always  be  sure  of  his  eyes,"  I 
replied,  with  a  reflection  of  his  manner.  "It  is  true, 
I  know  that  violence  is  threatened  against  your  peo- 
ple, and  that  Chinatown  is  likely  to  be  burned  down 
before  the  troubles  are  over.  I  know  that,  for  rea- 
sons that  seem  good  to  himself,  Peter  Bolton  is  fur- 
nishing money  to  aid  in  the  campaign  of  disorder. 
But  what  I  do  not  know  is  the  reason  why  Big  Sam 
is  engaged  in  secret  dealings  with  Peter  Bolton.  On 
its  face  it  looks  to  me  like  the  case  of  a  man  joining 
in  a  plot  to  burn  his  own  home." 

Big  Sam  drew  down  the  veils  of  inscrutability 
over  his  eyes  as  he  looked  steadily  at  me,  and  asked : 

"What  result  do  you  expect  from  the  agitation  ?" 

"For  the  first  thing,  destruction  of  property  and 
the  killing  of  some  of  your  countrymen." 

"Oh,"  said  Big  Sam  carelessly,  "as  for  the  prop- 
erty, it  belongs  mostly  to  your  countrymen.  We  pre- 
fer to  keep  our  belongings  in  movable  form.  And 
as  for  my  countrymen,  if  any  of  them  get  killed, 
there  are  plenty  more  where  they  came  from." 

A  shiver  ran  down  my  back  at  this  cold-blooded 
way  of  looking  at  the  matter,  and  with  some  element 
of  repulsion  in  my  thought,  I  replied  sharply : 


160         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"But  those  countrymen  may  not  be  able  to  reach 
here.  The  final  result  of  the  troubles,  in  my  judg- 
ment, will  be  the  shutting  of  our  gates  to  the  Chinese 
immigrant." 

"Even  that  might  not  be  altogether  a  misfortune," 
said  Big  Sam  calmly. 

"Not  to  us,  I  believe,"  I  said. 

"And  not  to  us,"  said  Big  Sam. 

"I'm  glad  you  take  so  kindly  to  the  idea,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  it's  very  simple,"  he  explained,  "a  mere 
calculation  of  dollars  and  cents.  Shut  off  the  sup- 
ply, you  increase  the  value  of  those  now  here.  If 
no  more  of  my  countrymen  come,  you  will  find  none 
working  for  ten  and  fifteen  dollars  a  month.  In  a 
few  years  the  ten-dollar  man  will  be  getting  twenty ; 
the  fifteen-dollar  man  will  be  getting  thirty;  the 
men  who  are  working  in  the  fields  and  on  the  rail- 
roads for  seventy-five  cents  and  a  dollar  a  day  will 
be  getting  a  dollar  and  a  half  and  two  dollars." 

"That's  a  new  view  of  the  matter — to  me,  at 
least,"  I  confessed.  "But  even  that  calculation  will 
be  much  amiss  if  the  agitators  get  the  upper  hand. 
They  call  for  expulsion — not  merely  exclusion. 
They  say  'The  Chinese  Must  Go,'  and  some  of  them 
mean  it." 

"I  have  no  fear,"  said  Big  Sam  calmly.  "Their 
violence  will  overreach  itself.  I  may  say  that  I  rely 
upon  them  more  than  on  the  justice  of  our  cause  to 
prevent  hostile  action  against  my  people.  The  more 
violent  their  outbreak,  the  stronger  the  reaction, 
and  the  less  the  likelihood  of  harsh  measures  to 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     161 

restrict  our  right  to  come  and  go  as  we  please.  Come, 
Mr.  Hampden,  I  will  wager  you  a  good  cigar  that 
we  have  a  rising  in  San  Francisco  that  will  call  out 
the  United  States  troops,  and  that  there  will  be  no 
legislation  against  my  people." 

I  looked  into  the  bland  and  impassive  face  before 
me,  and  wondered  if  the  considerations  at  which  he 
had  thus  hinted  could  explain  his  alliance  with 
Bolton.  It  was  in  keeping  with  the  principles  of 
oriental  diplomacy  that  he  should  be  planning  to 
prevent  exclusion  by  encouraging  the  agitators  to 
violence,  and  be  prepared  to  profit  by  either  suc- 
cess or  failure.  Yet  as  I  looked  into  the  fathomless 
brown  depths  of  his  eyes,  I  refused  to  believe  that 
he  had  revealed  the  full  measure  of  his  policy  or 
the  reasons  for  it. 

"I  will  certainly  risk  a  cigar  on  that,"  I  returned 
gaily. 

"Then  you  consider  the  exclusion  of  my  people 
inevitable  ?" 

"I  do.  It  is  necessary  to  the  control  of  this  coast 
by  the  white  race,  and  I  feel  certain  that  it  must 
come." 

"I  do  not  recognize  the  necessity  of  the  white 
race  controlling  this  coast,"  said  Big  Sam  dryly. 

"Probably  not." 

"Besides,  you  forget  that  there  is  a  class  of  your 
own  people  who  will  be  much  injured  by  an  exclu- 
sion policy,"  he  said.  "The  steamship  and  railroad 
companies  will  lose  much  money.  The  man  who 
employs  a  hundred  laborers  will  find  his  expenses 


162         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

increased  by  fifty  dollars  or  one  hundred  dollars  a 
day.  Do  you  think  they  are  going  to  submit  quietly  ? 
The  exclusion  policy  will  find  its  enemies  among 
your  own  people." 

"Then  you  will  take  no  part  in  the  struggle?"  I 
inquired. 

Big  Sam  gave  his  head  a  diplomatic  shake. 

"I  am  a  guest  in  your  country,  and  I  understand 
the  obligations  that  such  a  position  implies."  He 
spoke  the  words  exactly  as  he  would  have  said,  "I 
shall  protect  my  own  interests,"  and,  by  an  intangi- 
ble suggestion,  it  was  this  meaning  that  they 
conveyed  to  me.  Then  he  turned  the  current  of 
conversation  abruptly: 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "it  is  well  to  bring  the  girl 
back  here  where  she  can  have  the  care  of  a  doctor 
of  her  own  race."  He  spoke  with  outward  calm- 
ness, but  there  was  a  trace  of  inward  perturbation 
in  his  manner. 

I  stared  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"Surely,"  I  cried,  "you  do  not  believe  that  your 
doctors  are  better  than  ours !  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  an  intelligent  and  educated  man  like  you  thinks 
that  there  is  merit  in  powdered  toads,  and  snake 
liver-pills !  You  don't  believe  for  an  instant  that  in- 
cantations to  drive  away  devils  can  be  of  the  slightest 
benefit  to  a  girl  with  a  bullet  through  her  lungs !" 

Big  Sam  looked  away  from  me  with  something 
of  shame  and  discomposure  in  his  face.  The  yellow 
mask  dropped  away  for  a  moment,  and  I  could  read 
in  his  countenance  the  struggle  that  was  going  on 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     163 

in  his  mind  between  the  veneer  of  western  educa- 
tion and  the  inborn  basic  faith  in  the  system  evolved 
by  his  fathers. 

"If  you  had  asked  me  a  week  ago,  and  purely  as 
a  matter  of  theory,"  he  said  slowly,  "I  should  have 
replied  that  your  doctors  were  far  superior  to  ours 
— that  the  medical  practice  of  our  people  was  merely 
superstition  reduced  to  an  absurdity." 

"Your  good  sense  would  have  spoken,"  I  said. 

"But  now,"  he  continued,  "it  is  not  a  matter  of 
theory  that  I  have  to  consider.  It  is  a  life  and  death 
problem.  Immense  interests — my  future — perhaps 
the  future  of  the  Chinese  in  this  country — are  all  at 
stake.  And  who  am  I,  to  throw  aside  the  wisdom  of 
my  ancestors  and  call  it  folly  ?  There  are  powers  in 
the  earth  and  in  the  air  that  you  and  I  do  not  under- 
stand. There  are  forces  that  you  and  I  do  not  know 
how  to  use.  I  have  seen  things  that  science — even 
your  science — can  not  explain.  May  not  the  race 
know  what  the  common  man  does  not  know  ?  Does 
not  the  experience  of  three  thousand  years  count  for 
more  than  our  ideas  of  what  is  reasonable?  Our 
ideas!  What  are  they  but  bubbles  blown  in  air, 
now  seen,  now  gone  into  nothingness?  Here  is  a 
scrap  of  paper.  I  crumple  it  thus,  and  throw  it  out 
of  the  window.  It  is  blown  here  and  there — up  the 
street,  down  the  street,  around  the  corner — and  it 
comes  at  last  to  the  rubbish  pile  and  is  burned.  And 
because  it  has  found  nothing  but  pavements  and 
buildings  in  its  course  it  scoffs  at  the  stories  of  green 
fields,  mountains,  forests,  the  powers  of  nature  and 


1 64         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  works  of  man  that  it  has  not  seen.  Is  that  not  the 
attitude  of  civilized  man,  Mr.  Hampden  ?" 

"We  must  believe  our  experience,  our  observation 
and  our  intelligence;  they  are  the  only  guides  we 
have,"  I  replied. 

"The  savage  is  much  more  reasonable,"  said  Big 
Sam,  with  the  air  of  one  who  argues  with  himself. 
"He  makes  allowance  for  the  universe  outside  his 
little  round  of  experience."  He  rose  from  his  seat 
with  a  troubled  face,  as  though  to  relieve  his  stress 
of  thought  by  walking.  Then,  as  if  ashamed  at  the 
loss  of  his  customary  calm,  he  sat  down  once  more. 

I  brought  the  conversation  back  to  the  concrete 
case  of  Moon  Ying. 

"I  can  assure  you,"  I  said,  "that  the  girl  is  get- 
ting the  best  medical  attention  in  the  city,  and  is 
being  nursed  with  the  most  tender  care.  You  surely 
have  no  thought  of  depriving-  her  of  these  ad- 
vantages." 

"These  advantages  ?  Yes,  they  may  be  advantages 
to  your  people.  But  are  they  so  for  mine?" 

"Certainly;  flesh  and  blood  are  flesh  and  blood 
the  world  over." 

"Each  race  to  its  own,"  said  Big  Sam.  "I  can  not 
take  the  risk  of  leaving  her  to  die  under  the  white 
doctor's  treatment." 

"She  is  much  the  more  likely  to  die  if  you  bring 
her  to  Chinatown,"  I  argued. 

Big  Sam's  face  recovered  its  firm  determination, 
and  I  saw  that  the  superstition  and  ancestor-wor- 
shiping elements  imbibed  with  his  mother's  milk 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     165 

had  overwhelmed  education  and  reason  in  the  crisis 
at  which  he  felt  he  had  arrived. 

"I  must  look  to  my  own  welfare,"  he  said  with  de- 
cision. "A  war  among  the  tongs  would  be  fatal  to 
the  interests  of  the  Chinese.  And  if  the  girl  dies — 
especially  if  she  dies  under  the  white  doctor's  care 
— it  would  be  quite  beyond  my  power  to  prevent  an 
outbreak." 

"I  have  no  doubt  your  interests  are  important,"  I 
began,  when  he  interrupted  me. 

"Important !  they  are  everything.  I  must  ask  you 
to  see  that  the  girl  is  returned  here  this  morning.  I 
will  send  for  two  of  our  best  Chinese  doctors  to  care 
for  her." 

"I  protest  against  your  decision,"  I  said. 

"It  is  not  your  place  to  protest  or  assent,"  said 
Big  Sam,  with  an  air  of  command. 

"Nor  to  act  against  my  judgment,"  I  added. 

"Oh,  if  you  refuse  to  act,  I  must  find  another  mes- 
senger," said  Big  Sam  calmly.  "Permit  me  to  thank 
you  for  what  you  have  done,  and  to  say  that  when 
I  can  be  of  service  I  am  yours  to  command."  The 
dignity  and  courtesy  with  which  he  spoke  were  al- 
most regal. 

"Oh,  I  refuse  nothing,"  I  replied.  "But  you  will 
have  to  reckon  with  another  person  than  me.  I  shall 
take  your  request  to  Miss  Kendrick;  but,  whatever 
I  may  think  about  it,  the  final  decision  will  be  in  her 
hands." 

Big  Sam  looked  thoughtfully  at  me  for  more 
than  a  minute  before  he  spoke. 


166         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"That  was  a  phase  of  the  problem  I  had  not  con- 
sidered," he  said  slowly.  "I  had  forgotten  that 
yours  is  not  the  ruling  sex  in  the  white  race."  Big 
Sam's  voice  was  innocent  of  sarcasm,  and  he  ap- 
peared to  be  considering  an  impersonal  problem. 

"If  you  want  to  get  your  girl,  I  advise  you  to  see 
Miss  Kendrick  yourself,"  I  said. 

Big  Sam  looked  at  me  gravely. 

"I  should  not  venture  to  be  so  rude  to  Mr.  Ken- 
drick as  to  look  upon  the  women  of  his  household," 
he  said  with  a  trace  of  rebuke  in  his  tone ;  yet  I  felt 
that  this  oriental  excuse  was  but  a  pretense.  "I  am 
sure,"  he  added,  with  a  significant  glance,  "that  I 
could  not  have  a  better  advocate  than  the  one  I 
send." 

Something  in  the  tone  rather  than  in  the  words 
sent  the  blood  to  my  face,  and  in  some  confusion  I 
rose. 

"An  advocate  who  speaks  against  his  judgment  is 
not  likely  to  be  of  much  value,"  I  said. 

"And  you  a  lawyer!"  he  exclaimed.  He  rose 
and  accompanied  me  to  the  door,  then  halted  and 
stamped  three  times  on  the  floor.  "I  had  almost 
forgotten,"  he  said  with  an  enigmatic  smile. 

As  he  spoke  there  was  again  the  rumbling  as  of 
a  heavy  table  moved  across  the  floor. 

"Forgotten  what?"  was  my  natural  inquiry. 

He  made  no  reply,  and  as  the  noise  stopped  he 
opened  the  door  and  ushered  me  into  the  hall.  I 
had  ceased  to  think  of  the  peculiar  mode  in  which 
I  had  entered  the  room,  but  now  the  remembrance 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     167 

flashed  upon  me,  and  I  looked  about  in  astonish- 
ment. I  had  passed  directly  from  the  office  into  the 
outer  hall,  and  the  door  leading  from  the  hall  to  the 
passage  in  which  I  had  been  imprisoned  had  disap- 
peared. 

For  a  moment  I  was  at  a  loss  to  explain  the 
transformation.  Disappearing  doors  were  some- 
thing new  in  my  experience.  Then  I  struck  my  hand 
against  the  wall  where  the  door  had  been,  and  my 
knuckles  told  me  that  behind  the  counterfeit  ap- 
pearance of  plaster  was  a  heavy  sheet  of  painted 
iron.  In  a  flash  the  explanation  came  to  me.  The 
whole  wall  could  be  moved  like  a  sliding  door,  and 
with  a  minute's  warning  a  raid  on  Big  Sam's  office 
would  find  no  entrance. 

I  carried  Big  Sam's  message  to  the  Kendrick 
house  without  delay,  and  put  Big  Sam's  case  with 
an  impartiality  that  surprised  myself.  But  I  was  not 
disappointed  in  the  result. 

"Send  her  back !"  cried  Miss  Kendrick  in  a  great 
state  of  indignation.  "What  can  the  man  be  think- 
ing about?" 

"Indeed,  it  is  impossible,"  said  Miss  Fillmore. 
"The  girl  is  in  no  state  to  be  moved,  even  if  it  were 
a  question  of  moving  her  to  a  better  place." 

"And  to  move  her  to  that  dreadful,  dirty  China- 
town!" cried  Miss  Kendrick.  "I'm  astonished  that 
you  should  think  of  such  a  thing." 

"I  didn't  think  of  it,"  I  urged.  "I  didn't  even 
want  to  hear  of  it.  But  Big  Sam  has  reverted  to 
primeval  barbarism,  and  when  he  said  he  would 


168         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

find  somebody  else  if  I  wouldn't  come,  I  consented 
to  bring  his  message." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Kendrick,  "I  never  heard  of 
such  a  preposterous  thing  in  all  my  life." 

"Unfortunately,  Big  Sam  doesn't  see  it  in  that 
light,"  I  said. 

Miss  Kendrick  sat  down  looking  very  determined 
and  very  indignant.  Then  she  gave  a  decided  nod 
and  said : 

"You  can  tell  Big  Sam,  with  my  compliments,  that 
if  he  thinks  I  am  going  to  be  an  accomplice  before 
the  fact  to  a  murder,  he's  very  much  mistaken  in  the 
person." 

There  was  more  talk  to  the  same  effect,  when  my 
judicial  mind  caught  the  idea  of  a  compromise. 

"I  have  it,"  I  said.  "Why  not  let  Big  Sam's  Chi- 
nese doctor  come  up  here  and  take  an  occasional 
look .  at  Moon  Ying,  and  allay  the  excitement  in 
Chinatown  by  assuring  them  that  she's  all  right  ?" 

"Well,  I  admire  your  intelligence,"  said  Miss 
Kendrick.  "I  suppose  you'd  have  Doctor  Roberts 
consulting  with  him,  and  alternate  our  medicines 
with  shark's-liver  pills  and  snake-skin  powders. 
Would  you  set  aside  certain  hours  for  him  to  sing 
Chinese  incantations  over  her?  Or  how  would  you 
fix  it?" 

The  judicial  scheme  of  compromise  lost  some  of 
its  attractiveness,  and  I  said  so  with  the  proper  de- 
gree of  humility. 

"Well,  you  are  forgiven,"  said  Miss  Kendrick. 
"Now  I'll  tell  you  that  there's  just  one  compromise 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     169 

we  will  make.  Big  Sam  may  come  here  once  a  week 
to  see  Moon  Ying.  He's  the  only  Chinaman  who 
can  get  past  that  door." 

"I  suggested  something  of  the  sort,  and  he  took 
it  as  though  I  had  proposed  an  impropriety.  I  be- 
lieve that  a  Chinese  gentleman  isn't  supposed  to 
observe  that  another  gentleman  has  a  feminine  side 
to  his  establishment." 

"Then  he  can  stay  out,"  said  Miss  Kendrick  with 
decision.  "You  can  go  right  back  and  set  his  mind 
at  rest.  He  can  have  Moon  Ying  when  she  gets  well 
and  he  finds  a  man  who  is  fit  to  be  her  husband. 
It's  my  private  opinion  that  there  isn't  such  a  one  in 
Chinatown.  And  he  can't  have  her  a  minute 
sooner." 

I  delivered  this  ultimatum  to  Big  Sam.  He  had 
recovered  his  composure,  and  showed  neither  sur- 
prise nor  disappointment  when  I  reported  the  result 
of  his  mission. 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  this  message  is  from 
Mr.  Kendrick  or  Miss  Kendrick?"  he  inquired 
blandly. 

"From  Miss  Kendrick." 

"Ah !  I  presumed  that  such  a  matter  would  be  de- 
cided by  the  head  of  the  household."  His  tone  was 
even,  and  I  looked  to  his  face  for  the  flavor  of 
sarcasm  that  seemed  the  proper  dressing  for  the 
words.  But  the  -bland,  inscrutable  mask  of  China 
gave  back  only  the  expression  of  polite  attention. 

"Her  decision  would  be  final  in  such  a  matter,"  I 
replied  with  something  of  resentment. 


170         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Then,"  said  Big  Sam  in  his  suave  tone,  "I 
trust  that  she  understands  the  responsibility  she  is 
taking." 

"I  explained  the  importance  you  set  upon  it." 

"Oh,  I  did  not  refer  to  my  interests,"  said  Big 
Sam,  waving  them  aside  as  though  they  were  of  no 
moment. 

"Then  I  am  afraid  I  don't  understand  you,"  I  said 
in  perturbation. 

"It  is  very  simple.  If  the  girl  dies  I  can  no  longer 
answer  for  the  conduct  of  the  tongs.  And  if  she 
dies  in  Mr.  Kendrick's  house — " 

Big  Sam  left  the  sentence  unfinished,  and  I 
asked : 

"Do  you  mean  that  as  a  threat  of  an  attack  on 
Mr.  Kendrick  or  his  niece?" 

"Oh,  I  do  not  threaten.  I  merely  suggest.  There 
are  very  bad  men  in  these  tongs,  and  they  will  be 
very  angry.  You  can  not  be  surprised  if  they  put 
something  of  the  blame  for  the  girl's  death  on  those 
who  have  her  in  charge.  And  angry  men  will  go  far 
for  revenge." 

"This  is  a  serious  threat,"  I  said,  with  more  alarm 
than  I  cared  to  show. 

"I  do  not  intend  it  as  such,"  said  Big  Sam  calmly. 
"I  merely  state  circumstances." 

"I  am  obliged  to  you  for  the  warning,"  I  said, 
"but  I  can  only  say  that  the  considerations  you  men- 
tion would  not  move  Miss  Kendrick.  She  is  con- 
vinced that  to  send  the  girl  here  is  to  sacrifice  her 
life.  Miss  Kendrick  has  a  woman's  courage — the 


WISDOM    OF    HIS    ANCESTORS     171 

courage  that  defends  the  helpless — and  I  know  it 
would  be  useless  to  appeal  to  her  fears." 

"Then,"  said  Big  Sam,  with  the  air  of  one  dis- 
missing the  subject,  "there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
said.  What  will  happen  will  happen." 

And  with  royal  courtesy  he  bowed  me  out. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BARGAINING 

"I  thought  you  would  come,"  said  the  hard,  dry 
voice  of  Peter  Bolton,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  surveyed  me  with  a  sardonic  smile. 

"Why,  yes,"  I  replied  cheerfully.  "Jim  Morgan 
told  me  that  you  wanted  to  see  me,  and  I  took 
chances  on  his  telling  the  truth."  As  Jim  Morgan 
was  the  prize-fighter  who  was  at  the  head  of  Bol- 
ton's  bureau  of  private  information  and  defense,  I 
had  reason  to  assume  that  he  spoke  by  authority. 

Peter  Bolton  looked  at  me  suspiciously,  and  then 
gave  grudging  acknowledgment  of  Morgan's  agency. 

"I  never  write,"  he  grumbled.  "You  never  know 
whose  hands  a  letter  will  fall  into." 

"A  very  prudent  rule,"  I  returned. 

He  shook  his  head  slowly,  drew  down  the  cor- 
ners of  his  mouth,  and  rubbed  his  hands. 

"Well,  I  suppose  by  this  time  you  are  about  ready 
to  take  up  with  my  offer,"  he  said  with  a  look  of 
shrewd  cunning. 

"Your  offer?  I  really  didn't  know  that  you  had 
made  one,"  I  answered. 

His  cold  blue  eyes  looked  searchingly  into  my  face 
for  a  minute.  Then  he  said : 

"You'll  find  it  best  to  take  up  with  my  terms.  I 
172 


BARGAINING  173 

don't  know  what  salary  you're  getting  from  Ken- 
drick,  but  you're  going  to  lose  it." 

"I  didn't  expect  to  keep  it  for  ever.  Did  Mr.  Ken- 
drick  tell  you  he  was  going  to  discharge  me?" 

"Tell  me?"  began  Peter  Bolton  with  a  sarcastic 
leer.  "He  didn't  have  to.  I've  got  better  information 
than  he  can  give.  Your  man  Kendrick  is  going 
broke  within  the  next  thirty  days,  and  he  won't  have 
any  use  for  that  fine  herd  of  clerks  he  has  been 
keeping." 

As  Peter  Bolton  evidently  expected  me  to  com- 
ment on  this  prophecy,  I  murmured  that  I  was  sorry 
to  hear  it. 

"You  needn't  be,"  said  he  with  an  attempt  to 
be  amiable.  "I'll  take  care  of  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  I  said.  "But  how  do  you 
know  that  Wharton  Kendrick  is  going  under?" 

"How  do  I  know?"  he  returned  with  something 
of  passion  under  his  drawling  tone.  "Why,  I  know 
your  man  Kendrick  like  a  book.  I've  known  him  for 
forty  years.  I've  watched  his  business.  I've  watched 
him.  Oh,  he  can  fool  you  fellows  with  his  smirking 
face,  and  his  open-handed  way  of  throwing  money 
about.  But  I  know  that  it's  borrowed  money,  and 
the  man  who  makes  a  show  on  borrowed  money 
comes  to  the  end  of  it  some  day,  doesn't  he  ?"  Bolton 
ended  querulously,  as  though  he  was  making  com- 
plaint against  Wharton  Kendrick  for  not  having 
gone  into  bankruptcy  long  before. 

"Oh,  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  I  said.  "Mr. 
Kendrick  is  known  to  be  very  rieh." 


174         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

"Reported  to  be  very  rich,  you  mean,"  he  said  in 
his  most  sarcastic  drawl. 

"Oh,  there's  no  doubt  about  it,"  I  returned  warm- 
ly. I  hoped  to  provoke  him  into  saying  more  than  he 
intended. 

Peter  Bolton  took  up  the  challenge. 

"Why,  young  man,"  he  cried,  his  voice  rising 
into  a  cracked  treble,  "he  owes  money  he  can't  pay. 
There's  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  his  notes 
in  that  safe  there,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  solid  front 
of  the  burglar-defying  case.  "They  fall  due  pretty 
soon — some  of  'em  are  due  now — and  he  can't  meet 
'em." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  he  has  borrowed  money 
of  you  ?"  I  asked  in  amazement. 

"I  didn't  say  that,"  he  replied  cautiously.  "But 
there  are  the  notes.  They're  signed  by  Wharton 
Kendrick,  and  they  call  for  five  hundred  thousand. 
When  they're  presented  he  can't  pay  'em,  and  I 
suppose  I'll  lose  my  money.  I  have  bad  luck  about 
losing  money."  He  shook  his  head  ruefully,  and 
drew  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth  as  sourly  as 
though  he  saw  the  almshouse  at  the  end  of  his 
road. 

"Oh,"  I  said  hopefully,  "you'll  get  it,  I'm  sure. 
Mr.  Kendrick  has  a  lot  of  property,  and  if  he  hasn't 
the  money,  he  can  borrow  it." 

This  assurance  was  less  pleasing  than  the  pros- 
pect of  loss  that  had  soured  his  face  but  a  minute 
before. 

"I  know  what  property  he  has,  young  man,  a  good 


BARGAINING  175 

deal  better  than  you  do,"  he  said  sharply.  "And 
there's  more  paper  of  his  in  the  banks — I  guess  it's 
all  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  maybe  more. 
Money's  getting  pretty  tight  now,  pretty  tight,  and 
Kendrick's  about  at  the  end  of  his  rope.  When  he 
goes  down,  you'll  want  a  place  to  fall  on."  He 
looked  at  me  ingratiatingly,  and  as  I  said  nothing, 
he  continued : 

"Now,  I  want  to  see  that  you're  taken  care  of. 
You  shan't  lose  anything  when  the  smash  comes,  if 
you  just  follow  my  instructions." 

"It's  very  kind  of  you  to  take  so  much  interest  in 
me,"  I  began  with  an  echo  of  his  own  sarcasm, 
when  he  interrupted. 

"Oh,  I  ain't  such  a  hard  man  as  some  people  say. 
I  want  to  do  you  a  good  turn,  and  maybe  you'll  help 
me  out.  I'm  a  liberal  employer  to  men  who  give 
me  the  right  sort  of  service.  Now  you're  trying  to 
be  a  lawyer — " 

I  confessed  that  I  hoped  to  do  something  in  that 
line. 

"And  I've  got  a  little  legal  business  to  attend  to," 
he  continued,  "and  I  want  to  know  what  you'd  con- 
sider a  fair  fee." 

"Why,"  I  said,  "it  depends,  for  one  thing,  on  the 
work  to  be  done,  and  for  another  on  the  amount  of 
money  we  think  the  fellow  has." 

Peter  Bolton  looked  at  me  in  alarm. 

"Oh,  I  have  very  little  money,  very  little  money," 
he  said  quickly. 

"Except   for  such  little  items  as   five  hundred 


176         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

thousand  in  Kendrick's  notes,  that  you  were  just 
mentioning." 

"Oh,  them.  Well,  I'm  expecting  to  lose  that 
money,  and  a  man  who  loses  five  hundred  thousand 
feels  pretty  tight  pinched." 

"Now,  as  for  the  work  to  be  done,  if  it  were  over- 
looking the  Council  of  Nine  and  the  anti-coolie  agi- 
tation— " 

"Anti-coolie  agitation !"  he  exclaimed  angrily.  "I 
don't  know  anything  about  an  anti-coolie  agitation." 

"Oh,"  said  I  apologetically,  "I  supposed  you  knew 
what  Waldorf  and  Parks  and  Kearney  were  doing 
with  the  money  you  gave  them.  Didn't  they  tell  you 
about  it  when  they  were  here  last  night  ?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about!"  he 
cried  angrily,  but  I  read  in  his  eyes  anxiety  and 
surprise  at  the  accuracy  of  my  information. 

"Now  if  it  were  looking  after  them,  I  should  want 
a  larger  fee  than  for  looking  after  your  plans  with 
Big  Sam." 

A  shade  of  gray  passed  over  his  face,  and  he  held 
up  one  hand  and  gave  me  a  malevolent  look. 

"Young  Men  talk  a  Good  Deal  of  Nonsense,"  he 
said.  "Now  if  you're  through  with  your  joke,  we'll 
go  back  to  talking  Business."  His  sardonic  voice 
showed  that  he  was  again  thoroughly  in  command 
of  himself,  but  I  felt  convinced  that  he  was  more 
eager  than  ever  to  secure  my  services.  "Now  what's 
your  figure  ?" 

"You  haven't  told  me  yet  what  you  expect  me  to 
do." 


BARGAINING  177 

He  looked  about  cautiously,  and  then  studied  my 
face  for  a  little  before  he  replied. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  said  slowly.  "You  are 
in  charge  of  Kendrick's  campaign.  I  want  you  to 
stay  in  charge  of  it,  but  to  run  it  according  to  My 
orders  instead  of  according  to  His  orders." 

"How  long  do  you  think  I  could  keep  the  job  on 
those  terms?"  I  asked.  "You've  known  Mr.  Ken- 
drick  forty  or  fifty  years.  You  must  have  got  the 
impression  in  that  time  that  he  isn't  altogether  a  fool. 
How  long  do  you  think  he  would  stand  it?  About 
long  enough  to  kick  me  out  of  his  office,  wouldn't 
he?" 

"He'll  stand  it  long  enough  to  suit  My  purpose," 
replied  Peter  Bolton,  his  sardonic  smile  tightening 
the  corners  of  his  mouth.  "My  orders  will  be  His 
orders  until  the  day  comes  that  I  am  ready  to  put 
my  hand  on  him."  He  reached  out  his  long,  bony 
fingers  cautiously,  and  then  brought  his  palm  down 
on  his  desk  with  a  thump  as  though  he  were  catch- 
ing a  luckless  fly.  "When  the  time  comes,  an  hour 
will  be  enough,"  he  continued.  "All  I  want  you  to 
do  is  to  bring  His  orders  to  Me,  before  you  carry 
them  out.  Then  do  as  I  tell  you."  His  jaws  closed 
with  a  snap,  as  though  they  were  a  trap,  and  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick  were  between  them. 

"That  sort  of  legal  advice  is  worth  a  good  deal  of 
money,"  I  said.  "You  can  afford  to  pay  well  for  it, 
for  you'll  make  a  big  clean-up.  I'll  have  to  be  paid 
well  for  it,  for  if  it  were  to  be  found  out,  I  could 
never  do  any  more  business  in  this  town." 


178         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

Peter  Bolton  gave  me  a  shrewd  look,  as  though 
he  thought  he  was  sure  of  me. 

"I  offered  you  Ten  Thousand  Dollars,"  he  said, 
trying  to  make  the  sum  sound  very  large,  "but  I 
won't  stick  at  a  thousand  or  two  more.  I'm  not  a 
close  man  with  those  I  like — " 

"It's  worth  a  good  deal  more,"  I  interrupted. 

He  looked  disappointed.  Then  he  studied  the 
desk,  and  appeared  to  be  making  up  his  mind  to 
some  great  sacrifice. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly  and  grudgingly,  "name 
your  figure." 

"I  should  think  fifty  thousand  dollars  was  about 
right." 

Peter  Bolton  gave  a  shudder,  and  pondered  for 
a  little.  Then  the  shrewd  look  came  again  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  said : 

"I'll  be  liberal,  and  give  you  more  than  it's  worth. 
I'll  pay  you  One  Thousand  Dollars  a  week  for  the 
next  four  weeks,  and  on  the  day  that  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  makes  his  assignment,  I'll  give  you  Twenty- 
Five  Thousand  Dollars.  I  wouldn't  do  it  for  any 
one  else,  but  I  want  to  see  that  you  don't  lose  any- 
thing." 

I  understood  from  this  outburst  of  verbal  gener- 
osity how  much  he  overestimated  my  share  in  Whar- 
ton Kendrick's  affairs. 

"Well,  I'll  think  it  over  and  let  you  know,"  I 
said,  rising  to  escape.  The  pressure  of  my  indigna- 
tion had  reached  the  danger  point,  and  I  felt  that  if 
I  sat  there  another  minute  my  honest  opinion  would 


BARGAINING  179 

burst  forth  in  words  that  would  put  an  end  to  fur- 
ther hopes  of  getting  any  revelations  out  of  him. 

"You'd  better  take  it  now,"  he  urged,  with  a 
shadow  of  disappointment  on  his  face.  "It's  a  good 
offer,  and  I  might  find  some  one  else  to  take  it  up 
by  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  I'll  take  the  risk,"  I  returned.  "I  have  a 
monopoly  on  this  business,  and  you  know  it,  and  I 
can  take  what  time  I  please." 

"Just  as  you  like,  young  man,  just  as  you  like," 
he  said  in  his  sarcastic  drawl.  "But  look  out  for 
your  own  interests.  If  you  don't,  I  can  tell  you  that 
Wharton  Kendrick  won't." 

Before  he  could  deliver  another  homily  on  the 
folly  of  honesty  and  the  importance  of  pursuing  the 
interests  of  Number  One,  I  hastened  out  of  the  of- 
fice, with  the  thought  that  I  had  penetrated  far  into 
the  evil  designs  of  Peter  Bolton  at  the  cost  of  a  good 
deal  of  self-respect. 

I  soothed  my  indignant  spirit  with  a  walk  that 
gave  me  time  to  assure  myself  that  no  spy  was  fol- 
lowing me,  and  then  bent  my  steps  to  Wharton 
Kendrick's  offices  to  lay  the  case  before  my  client. 
The  accumulation  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  his  notes  in  Peter  Bolton's  hands  seemed 
to  be  a  matter  that  might  call  for  very  serious  con- 
sideration. 

I  found  Wharton  Kendrick  in  his  private  room 
in  converse  with  General  Wilson,  and  the  discussion 
appeared  to  have  become  heated.  General  Wilson's 
face  gleamed  like  a  great  carbuncle,  and  Wharton 


i8o         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

Kendrick's  ruddy  cheeks  were  ruddier  than  ever 
with  signs  of  temper. 

"You  can't  do  it,  Kendrick,"  General  Wilson  was 
saying,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand.  "I've  been  over 
every  foot  of  that  land  that  isn't  too  soft  to  stand 
on,  and  I'll  tell  you  that  you  can't  put  in  any  such 
works." 

"I've  had  two  first-class  engineers  go  over  it,"  re- 
plied Wharton  Kendrick  with  equal  positiveness, 
"and  they  say  it  can  be  done." 

"Engineers — engineers!  What  are  they  worth?" 
snorted  General  Wilson  scornfully.  "I've  got  two 
eyes,  and  they  are  good  enough  engineers  for  me." 

"You'll  find  'em  mighty  expensive  ones  if  you  try 
to  do  business  on  their  estimates,"  said  Wharton 
Kendrick  grimly.  "Experts  come  high,  but  they 
are  cheaper  than  your  own  guesswork.  You  can 
count  it  liberal  of  me  to  give  you  that  information 
for  nothing,  for  it  cost  me  over  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"It's  no  use  talking,  Kendrick,"  said  General  Wil- 
son positively.  "When  I'm  right  I  know  it,  and  all 
creation  can't  move  me.  That  land  of  yours  is  no 
good  to  us  unless  we  can  get  Bolton's  piece  with  it. 
The  two  have  got  to  be  improved  together  or  not 
at  all.  I'll  tell  you  right  now  that  the  company  won't 
pay  any  such  price  for  your  piece  unless  it  can  get 
the  other,  and  Bolton  won't  sell  just  because  he 
knows  we've  got  to  have  it  to  make  it  a  success." 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  Kendrick,  looking 
grave.  "Bolton  won't  sell  ?" 


BARGAINING  181 

General  Wilson  repeated  his  statement  with  char- 
acteristic vehemence. 

"Did  Bolton  tell  you  that?" 

"He  couldn't  have  made  it  plainer  if  he  had  said 
it  right  out  in  so  many  words.  He  raised  his  price 
at  the  rate  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  minute 
as  soon  as  he  heard  that  we  wanted  your  land." 

"Ah,  yes.  I  remember  now  that  Hampden  was 
telling  me  something  of  the  sort."  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  shook  his  head  over  the  information,  and  then 
turned  to  me.  "Was  there  something  you  wanted?" 

"Well,"  I  said,  hesitating  in  some  embarrassment 
at  General  Wilson's  presence,  "I  had  an  interview 
with  a  friend  of  yours  this  afternoon." 

The  intonation  in  my  voice  was  enough  to  give 
a  hint  of  the  identity  of  the  friend,  and  he  nodded  his 
head  in  comprehension. 

"Well,  come  up  to  the  house  to-night,  and  give 
me  the  whole  story.  It'll  keep  till  then,  won't  it? 
By  the  way,  what  was  that  hullaballoo  around  the 
place  last  night  ?  It  waked  me  up,  but  I  was  too  lazy 
to  turn  out  and  take  a  hand  in  it." 

"Perhaps  you  heard  my  men  when  they  caught 
three  fellows  climbing  over  the  back  fence,  along 
in  the  early  hours  this  morning.  I  don't  think  of 
anything  else  that  happened." 

"Well,  upon  my  soul,"  gasped  General  Wilson, 
"isn't  that  enough  ?  Good  heavens,  young  man,  you 
speak  as  though  it  was  something  a  gentleman 
might  expect  as  a  common  attention  from  his  neigh- 
bors!" 


1 82         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"It's  a  first  experience,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick 
with  a  jovial  laugh.  "But  why  didn't  you  tell  me 
about  it?  If  I'm  an  attraction  to  burglars,  I  think 
I'm  entitled  to  know  it." 

"I  didn't  intend  to  make  a  secret  of  it;  but  you 
weren't  in  when  I  called  this  morning.  Besides,  I 
haven't  run  the  thing  down  to  its  source  and  origin." 

General  Wilson's  red  face  flamed  with  wonder 
and  he  stared  at  me  from  under  his  bushy  brows. 

"Are  you  trying  to  tell  us  that  they  weren't  burg- 
lars ?"  He  fired  the  question  at  me  very  much  as  if 
it  were  a  revolver,  with  the  professional  air  of  a  law- 
yer who  has  caught  a  witness  trying  to  deceive. 

"To  be  truthful,  I  was  trying  not  to  tell  you,"  I 
replied.  "But  if  you  put  it  to  me  direct,  I  should 
say  they  were  not." 

"Fire  away,"  said  Kendrick,  as  I  paused.  "There's 
nothing  about  it  that  Wilson  shouldn't  hear." 

"Well,"  I  continued,  "two  of  them  got  away,  but 
the  boys  held  on  to  the  third,  and  hauled  me  out  of 
bed  at  three  o'clock  this  morning  to  find  out  what 
was  to  be  done  with  him.  He  protested  that  he  was 
an  innocent  citizen  on  his  way  home  from  an  over- 
convivial  evening.  But  as  he  couldn't  explain  what 
he  was  doing  in  your  back  yard  at  that  time  of  night, 
we  took  him  down  to  the  police  station.  Instead  of 
finding  him  in  the  jailbird  class,  he  turned  out  to 
be  a  small  politician  out  of  a  job.  Just  now  he  figures 
as  sergeant-at-arms  of  the  Twelfth  Ward  Anti- 
Coolie  Club." 

"The  Anti-Coolie  Club?"  said  Wharton  Kendrick, 


BARGAINING  183 

wrinkling  his  brows.  "I  don't  see  what  an  anti-coolie 
club  could  want  to  do  to  me.  I'm  pretty  well  quali- 
fied for  membership  myself." 

General  Wilson's  face  flamed  redder  than  before, 
in  the  frame  of  his  aggressive  side-whiskers,  and  he 
smote  the  desk  with  his  fist. 

"Good  Lord,  Kendrick!  You  don't  mean  to  tell 
me  that  you  take  any  stock  in  such  riotous  nonsense 
as  these  anti-coolie  fellows  here  are  getting  off! 
Why,  I  was  listening  to  one  of  them  last  night,  and 
he  roared  like  a  bull-calf  about  the  Chinese  taking 
the  bread  out  of  the  hands  of  the  workmen,  and  split 
his  lungs  telling  that  the  heathen  must  be  driven  into 
the  sea.  Why,  sir,  he  made  my  blood  boil,  and  if  I 
was  made  provost-marshal  of  this  town  for  one  day, 
I'd  bundle  him  and  his  crew  down  to  the  docks,  and 
have  them  sailing  over  sea  before  night  came." 

Wharton  Kendrick  gave  a  good-humored  laugh. 

"My  dear  Wilson,  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  the 
loud-mouthed  orators,  but  I  say,  with  them,  that  if 
we  are  to  have  the  choice  of  a  white  or  a  yellow 
civilization  in  California,  my  vote  goes  to  the  white." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  cried  General  Wilson, 
thumping  the  desk  once  more.  "Why,  my  dear  sir, 
you  challenge  the  fundamental  principles  of  this  gov- 
ernment when  you  say  we  must  shut  out  these  men 
merely  because  their  skins  are  yellow.  Why,  sir,  it 
is  to  our  advantage,  not  to  our  detriment,  that  they 
work  for  small  wages.  The  lower  their  wages,  the 
less  money  they  take  out  of  the  country,  and  when 
they  go  home  they  leave  behind  them  the  great  works 


184          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

they  have  accomplished.  God  has  given  you  illimit- 
able resources,  and  you  are  crying  out  for  hands  to 
develop  them,  and  here  you  are,  ready  to  shut  out  the 
most  plentiful  and  cheapest  supply  of  labor  that 
exists  on  the  face  of  the  green  earth.  It's  against 
business  principles  and  it's  against  the  principles  of 
humanity,  and  you  can  never  do  it,  sir — never." 

"Oh,  fudge,  Wilson,  you  don't  know  anything 
about  the  problem,  and  yet  you  come  here  telling  us 
old  Calif ornians  what  we  ought  to  think  about  it. 
I'll  admit  anything  you  say  in  favor  of  the  coolies. 
They're  industrious  and  faithful  and  cheap;  but 
they're  more  than  that.  The  Chinese  can  drive  us 
out  of  any  line  they  want  to  take  up.  I've  seen  that 
done  too  many  times  to  doubt  it  any  longer." 

"Well,  if  they  can  do  it,  why  shouldn't  they?" 
cried  General  Wilson.  "Survival  of  the  fittest — isn't 
that  the  law  of  nature?  If  the  white  race  can't  stand 
the  competition,  let  it  perish.  But  it  won't  perish. 
It'll  manufacture  things  to  sell  to  the  Chinese,  and 
trade  will  go  on  whether  the  white  or  the  yellow  man 
settles  this  coast." 

"That  may  be  all  right  for  you  fellows  in  the 
East;  but  even  there  you'll  be  hit.  Just  ask  yourself 
which  would  be  more  profitable  as  customers,  a  mil- 
lion Chinese  who  spend  ten  cents  a  day  on  their  sup- 
plies, or  a  million  whites  who  spend  a  dollar  ?" 

"Sophistry,  sophistry,  Kendrick !"  puffed  the  gen- 
eral, apparently  impressed  by  the  illustration.  "But 
why  go  after  the  Chinese  alone?  I  was  in  Castle 
Garden  a  month  ago,  and  the  fellows  they  let 


BARGAINING  185 

through  there  are  every  whit  as  un-American  as  the 
Chinese.  Why  don't  you  holler  about  them  ?" 

"Why,"  said  Kendrick,  "we're  hollering  about  the 
pigs  in  our  corn.  You're  the  fellows  to  look  out  for 
the  other  side  of  the  continent." 

"Why  don't  we  try  to  keep  them  out?"  cried  Gen- 
eral Wilson.  "Why,  it's  because  we've  got  to  have 
cheap  labor  for  our  mines  and  mills  and  railroads. 
We  need  it  just  as  we  need  machinery,  and  we've  got 
to  take  the  disadvantages  with  the  benefits,  and  no 
loud-mouthed  agitator  can  deprive  us  of  the  right  to 
get  our  workmen  in  the  cheapest  market.  It's  the 
law  of  trade,  the  fundamental  principle  at  the  bot- 
tom of  political  economy — the  science  on  which  the 
development  of  civilization  must  depend — " 

General  Wilson's  oration  was  suddenly  cut  short 
by  an  outburst  of  sound  from  the  street  below,  and 
with  common  instinct  we  hastened  to  the  window  to 
view  the  cause  of  the  hubbub.  On  the  pavement  was 
a  crowd  of  five  or  six  hundred  men,  moving  slowly 
up  California  Street,  circling  with  cries  of  anger  or 
derision  about  some  indistinguishable  center  of  at- 
traction. The  outer  fringe  of  the  crowd  was  con- 
stantly breaking  into  sprays  of  individuals  who  ran 
forward  to  secure  a  position  in  front,  while  those  be- 
hind tried  to  leap  on  the  shoulders  of  those  before 
them,  and  the  center  was  an  effervescent  mass  of 
arms,  heads  and  clubs. 

The  nucleus  of  disturbance,  I  was  at  last  able  to 
make  out,  was  composed  of  two  policemen  dragging 
a  hatless  man  between  them. 


1 86         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

"Oh,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick,  "it's  nothing 
worse  than  an  attempt  to  lynch  some  fellow  who's 
been  caught  at  his  crime.  I  suppose  he's  killed  a 
woman,  or  something  of  the  sort.  But  the  police 
will  get  him  to  prison  easily  enough.  There's  never 
nerve  enough  in  one  of  these  crowds  to  take  such  a 
fellow  and  hang  him." 

"They  ought  to  string  'em  up  on  the  spot," 
snapped  General  Wilson.  Then  repenting  suddenly 
of  this  unprofessional  exclamation,  he  added :  "But 
the  majesty  of  the  law  must  be  upheld.  It  is  the 
shield  of  the  innocent  and  the  sword  of  the  right- 
eous." 

"Um-m,  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Kendrick  doubt- 
ingly.  "But  all  this  doesn't  settle  that  matter  of  the 
tule  tract.  I'll  see  you  to-night,  Hampden.  The  gen- 
eral and  I  must  talk  business  now." 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   RIPPLE   OF   TROUBLE 

The  brawling  of  many  voices  filled  the  air  as  I  ran 
down  the  stairs,  spurred  by  curiosity  and  by  a  vague, 
subconscious  misgiving  that  the  event  was  of  more 
than  impersonal  interest.  When  I  reached  the  en- 
trance the  circling  crowd  was  halted  in  a  mass  of 
struggling  men,  and  the  hoarse  roar  that  issued  from 
it  vibrated  with  the  indefinable  yet  definite  thrill  of 
savage  anger.  Police  whistles  were  blowing,  men 
were  running  from  all  directions  to  get  sight  of  the 
struggle,  blows  given  and  taken  could  be  heard  amid 
sounds  of  curses  and  exclamations  of  pain,  and  the 
centers  of  disturbance  became  pyramids  of  squirm- 
ing, struggling  mankind. 

As  I  reached  the  street,  Parks  burst  out  of  the 
crowd,  his  hat  gone,  his  long  hair  tumbled  in  ag- 
gressive disorder,  his  face  flushed,  and  his  clothing 
bearing  evidences  of  his  violent  passage  through  the 
mob.  Behind  him  came  Seabert,  whom  I  knew  for 
a  member  of  the  Council  of  Nine.  Between  them 
they  dragged  and  pushed  an  old  man,  white-faced, 
frightened,  who  looked  in  helpless  amazement  on 
the  turbulence  about  him.  The  old  man's  face  stirred 
vague  reminiscence  of  the  familiar,  but  for  the 


1 88         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

moment  I  could  not  trace  these  promptings  of 
memory  to  their  source. 

"Here!"  cried  Parks,  as  they  burst  out  of  the 
struggling  circle  and  flung  their  burden  into  the 
hands  of  a  knot  of  men  who  stood  by  an  express- 
wagon  near  at  hand,  "get  him  down  to  Number 
Two." 

As  the  old  man  was  sent  staggering  forward, 
helpless,  trembling,  perplexed,  the  men  circled 
around  him,  lifted  him  in  their  arms,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment had  climbed  into  the  wagon  and  were  going  on 
a  gallop  down  California  Street. 

It  had  all  been  done  in  the  time  I  had  taken  to 
pass  from  the  door  of  the  office  building  to  the  edge 
of  the  sidewalk.  I  pushed  into  the  roadway  and 
hailed  Parks  by  name.  He  had  snatched  a  hat  from 
one  of  the  men  who  climbed  into  the  wagon,  and 
was  hastily  removing  the  signs  of  conflict  from  his 
dress. 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  I  cried,  when  I  saw 
that  he  recognized  me. 

"Matter !"  he  cried.  "Matter  enough !  There  has 
been  an  interference  with  the  natural  right  of  a  man 
to  present  his  grievance  to  his  fellow-man.  It  has 
been  properly  resented." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  I  said.  "Who  was  the 
old  man  you  rescued  from  the  mob  ?" 

Parks  looked  at  me  in  surprise.  "Rescued  from 
the  mob !"  he  exclaimed.  "Why,  the  mob — but  wait 
a  minute,  and  I'll  tell  you  about  it." 

He  turned  as  he  spoke. 


A    RIPPLE    OF    TROUBLE  189 

"Stop  that  fighting!"  he  shouted.  And  at  his 
word  a  score  of  men  lent  their  efforts  to  the  task  of 
separating  the  struggling,  wrestling  groups,  raising 
the  prostrate  and  quieting  the  violent. 

The  efforts  of  the  peacemakers  were  signally  as- 
sisted by  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  squad  of  police 
coming  on  the  run  around  the  corner  from  Mont- 
gomery Street.  As  the  guardians  of  order  were 
strong  of  limb,  and  were  armed  with  heavy  clubs, 
they  had  exemplary  success  in  quieting  the  refrac- 
tory, and  satisfying  those  whose  appetite  for  fighting 
was  still  unsated. 

At  the  sight  of  the  police,  Parks  took  me  by  the 
arm  and  drew  me  quietly  down  the  block  and  around 
the  corner  into  Sansome  Street. 

"What  was  the  trouble  about,  and  who  was  the 
old  man?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  that  was  Merwin,"  said  Parks  in  a  tone  of 
surprise.  "You  ought  to  recollect  him." 

At  the  name  I  remembered  the  quiet,  dreamy  old 
man  of  my  visit  to  the  House  of  Blazes,  and  recalled 
the  history  of  his  life-wreck  which  was  wrapped  up 
in  the  volumes  of  legal  lore  that  went  under  the  title 
of  Merwin  versus  Bolton. 

"What  had  Merwin  been  doing  to  get  the  mob 
after  him  ?"  I  asked. 

"To  get  the  mob  after  him !"  exclaimed  Parks  in 
great  indignation.  "To  get  the  .police  after  him, 
you  mean." 

"The  police!"  I  exclaimed  in  my  turn.  "Oh,  he 
was  the  man  under  arrest,  then  ?" 


190         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"It  was  an  outrage  of  arbitrary  power,"  said 
Parks,  flushing  angrily,  "and  the  people  have  shown 
what  they  think  of  it.  He  has  been  taken  out  of  the 
hands  of  those  petty  tyrants,  and  it  will  be  a  long 
time  before  he  falls  into  them  again." 

"What  was  the  charge?"  I  asked,  at  a  loss  to  im- 
agine what  crime  could  have  been  committed  by  this 
inoffensive  wreck  of  a  man. 

"He  was  arrested,"  said  Parks  indignantly,  "for 
exercising  the  right  of  free  speech." 

"Free  speech  is  rather  an  elastic  term,"  I  said. 
"What  was  he  talking  about  ?" 

"The  only  thing  he  knows  anything  about,"  said 
Parks.  "That's  his  case." 

"Well,  it  is  a  subject  that  might  call  out  rather 
strong  language,  but  I  don't  see  just  how  that  could 
bring  him  afoul  of  the  police." 

"Sir,"  cried  Parks,  "it  could  happen  only  through 
the  exercise  of  arbitrary  power.  The  point  of  the 
thing  is  that  the  Supreme  Court  this  afternoon 
handed  down  its  sixth  decision  in  his  suit  against 
Bolton.  The  judgment  against  Bolton  is  reversed, 
and  the  case  sent  back  for  a  new  trial." 

"What  a  shame !"  I  said,  remembering  the  justice 
of  Merwin's  claim,  the  ruin  of  his  life,  and  his  long 
fight  against  the  wealth  and  malignity  of  Peter  Bol- 
ton. 

"It  is  outrageous!"  exclaimed  Parks  vehemently; 
"as  scandalous  as  the  open  sale  of  justice  to  the 
highest  bidder.  Those  men  should  be  dragged  from 
the  bench,  and  driven  through  the  streets  in  a  cart, 


A    RIPPLE    OF    TROUBLE  191 

with  their  price  for  rendering  such  a  judgment  pla- 
carded on  their  backs.  The  judges  were  bought  and 
justice  was  sold." 

"No,  no,"  I  protested.  "The  men  on  the  bench 
may  be  wrong-headed,  small-minded,  pettifogging, 
but  not  corrupt — believe  me,  not  corrupt." 

Parks  looked  at  me  with  a  pitying  shake  of  his 
head. 

"You  are  welcome  to  your  opinion,"  he  said,  "but 
it  isn't  mine.  However,  it  doesn't  matter.  The  court 
has  driven  another  nail  in  the  coffin  of  the  present 
social  order." 

"But  how  did  this  decision  get  Merwin  into  the 
hands  of  the  police?  Did  he  go  around  to  the  court- 
rooms and  tell  the  justices  what  he  thought  of 
them?" 

"No,  indeed!"  said  Parks  indignantly,  "though  I 
shouldn't  have  blamed  him  if  he  had.  He  got  up  at 
our  water-front  meeting  and,  for  the  first  time  since 
I've  known  him,  made  a  speech.  It  came  hot  from 
his  tongue,  too,  telling  the  plain  story  of  his  case  to 
his  fellow-citizens.  And  what  did  the  police  do? 
Why,  they  arrested  him  for  trying  to  incite  a  riot !" 

Parks  paused  as  though  waiting  for  my  opinion 
on  this  exercise  of  police  power. 

"Well,"  I  admitted,  "the  plain  story  of  the  case  of 
Merwin  against  Bolton  might  very  well  sound  like 
an  attempt  to  stir  the  mob  to  violence." 

"It  makes  my  blood  boil,  Hampden,"  cried  Parks. 
"It's  the  stuff  that  revolutions  are  made  of.  The 
hirelings  of  Nob  Hill  know  it,  and  that  is  why  they 


192         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

trampled  on  the  liberties  of  speech  in  the  attempt 
to  shut  the  mouth  of  the  injured  man." 

"Go  on  with  your  story.  What  happened  after  he 
was  arrested  ?" 

"Why,  I  wasn't  there,  so  I  don't  know  exactly 
how  it  was.  But  when  Merwin  was  dragged  off  the 
cart,  one  of  the  boys  ran  over  to  headquarters  with 
the  news.  As  soon  as  I  heard  what  was  being  done, 
I  hurried  over  here  with  such  men  as  I  could  get  to- 
gether. We  found  a  big  crowd  following  the  two 
policemen  who  were  dragging  Merwin  between 
them,  but  the  men  didn't  know  how  to  do  anything 
but  holler  and  ba-a.  So  I  passed  around  the  word 
that  Merwin  was  to  be  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
police.  The  crowd  was  ready  to  follow  if  any  one 
would  take  the  lead;  so  when  I  gave  the  signal  the 
police  were  tumbled  over  in  just  one  minute  by  the 
clock,  we  hustled  our  man  to  the  wagon,  and  now 
I've  had  Merwin  taken  to  a  safe  place." 

"My  sympathies  are  with  Merwin,"  I  said,  "but 
this  rescue  is  a  more  serious  matter  than  the  arrest. 
It  is  resistance  to  the  constituted  authority  of  the 
law." 

"The  constituted  authority  of  the  law!"  said 
Parks  contemptuously.  "That's  not  the  last  resist- 
ance that  will  be  roused  against  its  tyranny  and 
injustice.  The  day  is  at  hand,  sir,  when  this  con- 
stituted authority  of  the  law,  as  you  call  it,  will  be 
overthrown  and  scattered  as  easily  as  it  was  over- 
turned a  few  minutes  ago  in  the  persons  of  its  petty 
tyrants.  Then  a  new  and  better  authority  will  rise, 


A    RIPPLE    OF    TROUBLE  193 

founded  on  the  will  of  the  people,  responsive  to  the 
people's  needs,  and  protecting  the  people's  interests." 

Parks  had  begun  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  as  befitted 
one  who  had  reasons  for  avoiding  notice;  but  with 
his  closing  words  he  was  once  more  the  orator  and 
prophet  of  the  agitators,  and  I  gave  him  a  word  of 
caution  to  save  his  breath  for  a  less  dangerous  occa- 
sion. I  saw  nothing  to  be  gained  by  arguing  with 
him  the  folly  of  his  plans  of  revolution.  I  could  not 
hope  to  turn  him  from  his  purposes,  and  would  only 
shut  myself  out  from  the  chance  of  getting  further 
information  from  him.  Therefore  I  suppressed  the 
remonstrance  and  advice  that  rose  to  my  lips,  and 
asked  instead  how  the  movement  was  progressing. 

"Splendidly,"  replied  Parks,  with  an  enthusiastic 
shake  of  his  head.  "The  cause  of  the  people  is  ad- 
vancing by  leaps  and  bounds.  Men  are  awakening  to 
their  rights,  and  responding  to  the  efforts  for  their 
betterment.  Our  organization  has  gone  into  every 
district  in  the  city.  By  to-morrow  we  shall  be  five 
thousand  strong.  Next  week  we  extend  our  propa- 
ganda outside  of  San  Francisco,  and  shall  proceed 
to  establish  branches  in  every  town  in  the  state.  To- 
night we  invade  the  stronghold  of  aristocracy.  At 
eight  o'clock  we  hold  a  meeting  on  Nob  Hill,  at  the 
corner  of  California  and  Mason  Streets,  to  tell  the 
nabobs  what  we  think  of  them." 

We  had  reached  the  corner  of  Market  and  San- 
some  Streets  and  had  halted  for  a  little,  when  a  hot 
and  breathless  man  overtook  us,  and  tapped  Parks 
on  the  shoulder.  For  an  instant  the  enthusiast 


194         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

thought  that  he  was  under  arrest,  for  he  whirled 
about  with  a  fierce  and  determined  look.  If  the  man 
had  been  a  policeman  he  would  have  had  a  difficult 
prisoner  to  handle.  But  there  was  no  hostile  intent 
in  his  face,  and  a  look  of  recognition  relaxed  the 
tense  lines  of  determination  about  Parks'  mouth  and 
eyes  as  he  caught  sight  of  him. 

"Egbert  and  Baumgartner  are  arrested,"  whis- 
pered the  man  in  gasps ;  and  he  drew  Parks  aside. 

There  was  a  hurried  conversation  of  which  I 
caught  but  a  word  now  and  then,  and  I  had  time  to 
wonder  whether  Parks  would  not  presently  share  the 
fate  of  the  two  men  he  was  now  called  upon  to  aid. 
It  was  not  unlikely  that  a  man  of  such  conspicuous 
appearance  had  been  recognized  by  the  officers  when 
Merwin  had  been  snatched  from  their  grasp.  After 
a  minute  of  whispered  conversation,  Parks  turned  to 
me,  his  face  lighted  with  decision  and  excitement. 

"I  must  leave  you,  Hampden,v  he  said.  "Let  me 
see  you  at  the  meeting  on  Nob  Hill  to-night.  The 
contest  between  plutocracy  and  the  people  may  begin 
earlier  than  we  have  expected." 

And  with  these  significant  words  he  set  off  briskly 
in  the  direction  of  the  House  of  Blazes. 

I  digested  Parks'  hints  with  my  dinner,  and,  get- 
ting no  light  from  them,  I  took  my  way  to  Wharton 
Kendrick's  house  to  deliver  the  postponed  budget  of 
information  gained  from  my  visit  to  Peter  Bolton. 

The  sun  had  just  set  upon  the  long  July  day,  and 
the  bright  afterglow  still  forbade  the  use  of  lamps. 
And  in  the  misgiving  that  I  should  come  upon  my 


A    RIPPLE    OF   TROUBLE  195 

client  before  he  had  finished  his  dinner,  I  was  about 
to  continue  my  stroll  past  the  house  when  I  saw  the 
door  open  and  some  one  walk  in.  As  the  door  re- 
mained hospitably  ajar,  I  changed  my  intention  and 
climbed  the  steps.  Before  I  reached  the  landing  I 
heard  an  inner  door  close,  and  a  moment  later  the 
voice  of  Miss  Kendrick  asked : 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"You  Miss  Kenlick  ?"  came  the  reply,  with  an  un- 
mistakable Chinese  intonation. 

"Yes,  I  am  Miss  Kendrick.  What  do  you  want  of 
me?" 

"You  sabby  China  gell — nice  li'l  China  gell  ?"  The 
voice  of  the  Chinaman  was  pitched  in  a  fawning 
tone,  offensive  in  the  obsequiousness  of  its  effort  to 
win  the  confidence  of  the  hearer. 

At  the  words  I  was  startled  with  the  thought  that 
Big  Sam  had  come  to  survey  for  himself  the  situa- 
tion of  Moon  Ying  with  a  possible  view  to  her  re- 
capture. I  was  in  two  minds  about  my  duty  in  the 
matter.  Had  I  obeyed  my  first  impulse  I  should  have 
walked  in  and  expressed  my  opinion  of  the  attempt 
in  unceremonious  terms.  But  second  thought  sug- 
gested that  Miss  Kendrick  might  prefer  to  manage 
the  affair  without  interference.  A  sudden  wish  to 
hear  her  match  her  wits  against  the  diplomacy  of 
the  Oriental  proved  irresistible,  and  I  determined  to 
await  an  apparent  need  for  intervention.  Her  first 
words  reassured  me  of  her  ability  to  handle  the  situ- 
ation. 

"No,"  she  replied  calmly,  with  just  the  suspicion 


196         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

of  a  tremble  in  her  voice,  "we  don't  want  any  Chi- 
nese girl." 

"No — you  sabby  gell  ?"  insisted  the  Chinese  voice, 
with  its  fawning  emphasis.  "Nice  li'l  China  gell?" 

If  this  was  Big  Sam,  I  should  be  compelled  to 
compliment  him  on  a  marvelous  control  of  his  vocal- 
ization ;  and  in  curiosity  to  see  if  his  bodily  disguise 
was  as  complete  as  that  of  his  voice,  I  peeped  about 
the  edge  of  the  door  till  I  caught  sight  of  the  oriental 
figure.  My  first  glimpse  of  the  man  assured  me  that 
he  was  not  Big  Sam.  He  was  small  and  bent,  and 
gave  an  inimitable  appearance  of  age.  Whatever  his 
capacity  for  masquerade,  Big  Sam  could  not  have 
reduced  his  bulky  form  to  this  figure.  The  man 
turned  his  head  a  little,  and  I  saw  a  wizened  face, 
embellished  with  a  mustache  of  coarse  white  hair, 
and  scant  chin-whiskers  that  might  have  belonged 
to  an  anemic  billy-goat. 

Miss  Kendrick's  face  was  pale,  but  its  firm  ex- 
pression was  an  index  to  her  resolve  to  save  Moon 
Ying  from  this  creature  at  any  cost. 

"No,"  she  repeated  sharply,  "we  don't  want  a 
Chinese  girl— or  boy  either.  We  never  hire  them. 
You  go  now."  And  with  a  gesture  to  the  man-serv- 
ant who  stood  beside  her,  she  turned  and  was  gone 
without  a  glance  in  my  direction. 

The  man-servant,  in  eager  obedience  to  Miss  Ken- 
drick's hint,  took  the  Chinaman  by  the  shoulders, 
and  amid  protesting  exclamations  of  "Wha'  fo'? 
Wha'  fo'  ?"  ran  him  out  of  the  hall,  and  started  him 
down  the  steps,  his  speeding  word  to  the  departing 


A    RIPPLE    OF   TROUBLE  197 

guest  taking  the  form  of :  "Get  out  of  here,  John, 
and  if  you  come  back  I'll  kick  you  out." 

Then  suddenly  catching  sight  of  me,  he  recovered 
his  breath  and  his  dignity  with  a  sudden  effort. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Hampden,"  he  gasped. 
"I  didn't  know  you  was  here.  Mr.  Kendrick  is  just 
done  dinner.  He's  gone  to  his  smoking-room.  He 
said  if  you  came  I  was  to  show  you  right  in."  And 
with  a  glance  to  see  that  the  Chinaman  had  reached 
the  sidewalk,  he  shut  the  door  and  led  the  way  to 
the  master  of  the  house. 

I  followed  him  mechanically,  but  my  thoughts 
were  far  from  the  errand  of  Peter  Bolton's  schemes 
that  had  brought  me  hither.  An  insistent  question 
ran  through  my  mind  in  endless  variations,  but  when 
reduced  to  words  it  took  this  form :  "Where  have  I 
seen  the  face  of  the  old  Chinaman  before  ?" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LAYING   DOWN    THE   LAW 

Wharton  Kendrick  sat  at  his  ease  in  smoking- 
jacket  and  slippers,  but  his  brow  was  wrinkled  with 
thought.  The  cigar  that  he  held  between  his  teeth 
gave  evidence  of  his  discomposure  of  mind,  for  it 
was  unlighted,  and  one  end  of  it  had  been  reduced  to 
the  semblance  of  a  cud.  I  had  just  delivered  to  him 
a  conscientious  account  of  my  interview  with  Peter 
Bolton,  and  now  observed  the  perturbant  reflections 
that  it  had  stirred. 

"Was  that  all  you  could  get  out  of  the  old  rascal  ?" 
he  said  after  an  interval  of  silence. 

"Why,  yes,"  I  replied.  "I  thought  it  was  a  pretty 
good  afternoon's  work;  and  indeed  I  am  surprised 
that  he  told  me  so  much." 

"Oh,  thunder,  Hampden,  you're  as  easily  taken  in 
as  the  rest  of  'em.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  Peter  Bol- 
ton is  never  in  the  place  you're  looking  for  him  ?" 

"Why,"  I  argued,  somewhat  piqued  at  this  recep- 
tion of  my  budget  of  information,  "I  thought  he  told 
a  good  deal  about  his  plans — in  fact,  showed  himself 
a  garrulous  old  foozle  instead  of  the  shrewd  fox 
you'd  told  me  about." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Wharton  Kendrick  with  a 
198 


LAYING    DOWN    THE   LAW         199 

pitying  smile,  "I'm  grateful  for  your  zeal,  but  the 
only  thing  he  exposed  was  his  desire  to  get  you  to 
betray  me,  and  I  might  have  guessed  that  without 
his  telling  it." 

"But  that  half-million  of  notes — " 

"Doesn't  it  strike  you,  Hampden,  that,  as  a  busi- 
ness man,  I  might  be  expected  to  know  something 
about  the  notes  outstanding  against  me?  You're 
right  about  one  thing :  I  didn't  know  they  had  fallen 
into  Bolton's  hands,  and  I'll  have  a  score  to  settle 
with  the  men  who  sold  'em  to  him.  But  I've  got 
every  piece  of  my  paper  recorded  up  here,"  and  he 
tapped  his  forehead,  "and  I'll  be  prepared  to  take 
care  of  it  as  it  falls  due." 

"Well,"  I  said  ruefully,  "I'm  just  one  more  victim 
of  misplaced  confidence  in  Peter  Bolton." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  feel  ashamed  of  that,  my  boy," 
said  Kendrick  kindly.  "Your  time  wasn't  wasted. 
It's  worth  while  to  know  that  those  notes  are  in  the 
hands  of  an  enemy.  But  that's  a  mere  detail.  Now 
if  he  had  told  you  how  he  expects  to  keep  me  from 
meeting  them  when  due — " 

Wharton  Kendrick  left  his  sentence  suspended  in 
the  air,  while  he  chewed  his  cigar  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"After  all,  Hampden,"  he  continued,  "I  suspect 
he  has  pushed  those  notes  forward  to  draw  away  at- 
tention from  his  real  point  of  attack.  He's  figured 
on  the  possibility  that  you  would  bring  me  every 
word,  and  has  found  something  to  gain  out  of  it, 
whether  your  final  decision  is  to  stand  by  me  or  to 
take  up  his  offer.  Now,  about  that  offer?  Are  you 


200         THE   APPLE-OF    DISCORD 

prepared  to  accept  his  twenty-nine  thousand  for  that 
trifling  service  he  wants  ?" 

"If  I  get  it,  I'll  go  halves  with  you  when  you're 
broke,"  I  replied  with  an  attempt  at  lightness  that 
was  far  from  a  success.  "But  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
don't  like  to  discuss  the  thing,  even  in  joke.  It 
makes  my  gorge  rise  to  hear  a  hint  that  I  could  take 
money  for  betraying  you." 

"That's  Dick  Hampden's  son,"  he  returned,  his 
face  softening  into  a  smile.  "I  could  hear  your  fa- 
ther speaking  then.  But  if  you  think  I  am  worrying 
about  your  loyalty,  just  set  your  mind  at  rest." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  certificate  of  confidence,  and 
he  continued : 

"You  don't  have  to  tell  me  that  Bolton  isn't  the 
most  agreeable  company,  but  I'll  be  much  obliged 
if  you'll  cultivate  his  acquaintance  a  little  further." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  want  me  to  pretend  to  ac- 
cept his  offer?  I  couldn't  do  that.  I  couldn't  take 
his  money." 

"Do  you  think  you  would  get  it  ?" 

"He  offered  a  thousand  dollars  a  week.  I'd  get 
that  as  long  as  the  job  lasted." 

"Well,  fix  it  up  to  suit  yourself.  But  if  you  can 
find  some  way  to  keep  him  talking,  you  may  get  the 
one  word  that  will  join  the  different  ends  of  his 
scheme  together.  Here  we  have  his  dealings  with 
Big  Sam  and  the  Council  of  Nine,  and  his  battery 
of  notes  ready  to  fire  at  me.  A  little  more,  and  we 
may  see  his  whole  plan.  Once  I  get  that,  I'll  fix  a 
scheme  to  scoop  his  pile  out  from  under  him  so 


LAYING   DOWN   THE   LAW        201 

quick  that  he'll  think  an  earthquake  has  struck  him." 
And  with  this  hint  he  excused  me  for  the  night. 

As  I  went  out  into  the  big  hall,  I  looked  regret- 
fully at  the  library  door,  with  a  mental  vision  of  the 
pleasure  of  spending  an  evening  in  converse  with 
Miss  Kendrick  setting  my  pulses  to  beating.  But 
with  Spartan  resolve,  I  crushed  down  my  emotions 
with  the  notion  that  it  was  my  duty  to  attend  the 
Nob  Hill  meeting  of  the  agitators. 

"Oh,  you  aren't  going  without  so  much  as  saying 
'How  is  Moon  Ying?'  are  you?"  said  a  piquant 
voice;  and  at  the  words,  I  turned  to  see  Miss  Ken- 
drick coming  down  the  stairs.  Her  light  dress  and 
graceful  motions  suggested  the  vision  of  a  fairy 
floating  down  from  some  celestial  region  with  the 
benevolent  purpose  of  cheering  the  life  of  mortals — 
a  purpose  that  met  my  instant  and  hearty  approval. 
At  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  reasons  that  had 
drawn  me  toward  the  Nob  Hill  meeting  were 
whisked  away  like  so  many  scraps  of  paper  before 
the  summer  breeze,  and  I  stammered  out  some 
clumsy  expression  of  my  pleasure  in  remaining. 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Kendrick,  "I've  heard  that  ap- 
pearances are  deceptive,  and  now  I'm  sure  of  it. 
You  were  a  very  good  imitation  of  a  man  planning 
an  escape."  And  she  led  the  way  into  the  library. 

"There  was  something  in  the  appearance,"  I  said. 
"I  was  wishing  to  escape  from  the  duty  of  going 
down  town." 

"Oh,  if  it's  a  matter  of  duty,  I  shouldn't  think  of 
interfering." 


202 

"I  can't  see  now  why  I  thought  it  so,"  I  returned, 
"but  I  was  suspecting  there  might  be  the  chance  of 
a  fight." 

"Well,  if  there's  to  be  any  fighting,"  said  Miss 
Kendrick  in  some  alarm,  "I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  ad- 
vice, and  that  is  to  keep  out  of  it." 

"There's  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  anti-Chinese  clubs 
to-night  up  by  the  Stanford-Hopkins  houses,  and  it 
may  start  a  riot,"  I  explained.  "I  didn't  know  but  I 
ought  to  go  to  it." 

"The  curiosity  of  these  men !"  she  sighed.  "And 
they  talk  of  the  inquisitiveness  of  women.  Why,  you 
might  have  fifty  riots,  and  you'd  never  see  me  going 
near  one  of  them — not  if  I  heard  of  it  beforehand." 

"I  hope  not.  But  it  isn't  altogether  curiosity  that 
would  lead  me  to  attend." 

"You  don't  mean  that  you-  have  any  crazy  idea  of 
trying  to  stop  the  fighting  if  it  begins  ?" 

"Well,  no." 

"Then  you  just  leave  the  business  of  the  police  to 
the  police,"  she  said.  "I'm  beginning  to  believe  that 
you  need  a  guardian." 

"I  believe  so,  too,"  I  replied,  with  the  thought  that 
I  saw  a  very  desirable  person  for  the  place.  I  was 
tempted  to  say  as  much,  but  Miss  Kendrick  re- 
sponded hastily: 

"I  wouldn't  envy  him  his  position."  Then  she 
added:  "I'm  not  sorry  I  interrupted  you  in  your 
foolishness,  but  I  shouldn't  have  done  so  if  I  hadn't 
wanted  to  take  counsel  with  you." 

I  wished  she  had  chosen  a  more  complimentary 


LAYING   DOWN    THE    LAW         203 

way  of  putting  it,  but  professed  myself  all  readiness 
to  listen. 

"There  was  a  Chinaman  here  a  little  while  ago," 
she  began,  and  then  she  described  in  detail  her  inter- 
view with  the  little  old  man  in  the  hall. 

As  she  told  her  tale  my  thoughts  were  busy  with 
the  insistent  question — where  had  I  seen  the  China- 
man before  ? 

"Now,  what  does  that  mean?"  she  demanded, 
when  her  tale  was  done. 

As  she  asked  the  question  the  problem  was  solved. 
A  sudden  picture  flashed  into  my  mind  of  the  old 
Chinaman  who  had  posed  as  the  girl's  father  after 
she  had  been  stolen. 

"It  means  nothing,  I  think — some  peddler  with 
silk  handkerchiefs  to  sell,  perhaps,"  I  replied,  with 
an  effort  to  put  a  careless  indifference  into  my  voice. 

"You  think  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
drick.  "I  don't  see  why  you  treat  me  like  a  child. 
I'm  not  a  child,  and  I  am  wishing  that  you  would 
discover  it."  She  spoke  with  a  little  of  wistfulness 
in  her  voice  and  manner.  "Tell  me  honestly  what 
you  think  about  the  visit  of  the  Chinaman?"  she 
said  pleadingly. 

I  reflected  a  minute  on  her  request,  and  she  broke 
forth  in  rapid  words : 

"Do  you  think,  if  I  am  afraid,  that  you  can  make 
me  confident  by  telling  me  that  the  dark  won't  bite 
me  ?  Perhaps  I  am  afraid — sometimes  I  do  feel  hor- 
ribly scared — but  don't  you  think  I  counted  all  the 
dangers  before  I  made  you  bring  poor  little  Moon 


204          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Ying?  There's  one  thing  I'm  more  afraid  of  than 
all  the  rest  of  things  put  together,  and  that  is  the 
unknown  thing.  Let  me  know  of  a  danger,  and  I'll 
be  scared,  and  face  it.  But  when  I  know  it's  there, 
and  don't  know  what  it  is — that's  the  time  I  want 
to  run.  Now  I  saw  in  your  face  that  you  knew,  or 
thought  you  knew,  and  were  afraid.  Please  tell  me 
what  it  is  that  you  think." 

She  looked  into  my  eyes  with  such  a  mixture  of 
pleading  and  command  that  my  reluctance  to  con- 
fide my  fears  to  her  melted  away. 

"The  man,"  I  replied,  "was  beyond  doubt  the  old 
pirate  who  had  Moon  Ying  in  charge  for  the  Hop 
Sing  Tong." 

"And  you  think  he  was  on  a  reconnoitering  expe- 
dition for  his  wicked  society?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

She  considered  the  matter  with  a  grave  face  and 
downcast  eyes,  and  I  regretted  that  I  had  confided 
my  fears  to  her  so  bluntly.  Then  she  asked : 

"Do  you  think  the  highbinders  will  come  here?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  courage 
enough  in  all  the  tongs  in  Chinatown  to  attack  this 
house.  They  have  a  pretty  clear  idea  of  the  sort  of 
vengeance  that  would  be  taken  on  them,  if  they 
tried  such  a  thing.  The  burning  of  Los  Angeles' 
Chinatown  was  a  lesson  that  they  will  remember  a 
long  time." 

"Do  you  think  it  possible  that  your  wicked  tong- 
sters  might  hire  some  white  men  to  do  what  they 
don't  dare  do  themselves  ?" 


LAYING   DOWN    THE    LAW         205 

Miss  Kendrick  spoke  in  such  tone  that  I  demanded 
sharply : 

"What  put  that  idea  into  your  head?" 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  told  you  at  first,  but 
the  fact  is  that  it's  just  this  minute  I've  put  two  and 
two  together  and  made  five  out  of  them.  Now  this 
is  the  way  of  it:  A  little  while  before  the  old 
Chinaman  was  here,  a  white  man  came  to  the  back 
door  and  asked  for  something  to  eat.  The  cook  set 
out  some  victuals  for  him,  but  he  didn't  seem  to 
have  the  appetite  of  a  starving  man.  What  he  did 
have  was  a  consuming  curiosity  about  the  family. 
After  a  good  many  questions,  he  asked  if  there  were 
any  Chinese  about  the  place.  The  cook  said  'No,' 
and  then  he  asked  if  there  wasn't  a  Chinese  girl  here. 
I  can't  get  out  of  the  cook  just  what  she  did  tell 
him,  but  I  have  no  doubt  he  had  the  whole  story  out 
of  her.  I'm  sure  the  fellow  knows  this  minute  just 
what  room  the  girl  is  in,  and  who  waits  on  her,  and 
what  she  has  for  dinner,  and  how  many  people  are 
about  the  place,  and  whatever  else  he  wanted  to  find 
out." 

I  balanced  my  suspicions  between  the  possibility 
that  the  fellow  was  a  spy  for  the  tongs,  and  the 
chance  that  he  was  an  agent  of  the  anti-coolie  clubs, 
and  then  asked  for  a  description  of  him. 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Kendrick,  "he's  a  most  remark- 
able-looking creature,  and  I'm  sure  you  ought  to 
have  no  difficulty  in  finding  him.  I  asked  three  of 
the  servants  who  saw  him,  and  took  down  their  de- 
scriptions, and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  look  for  a. 


206         THE   APPLE   OF    DISCORD 

tall,  short,  middle-sized  young  man,  with  yellowish, 
brown,  black  hair,  and  black  and  blue  (or  possibly 
green)  eyes,  with  and  without  a  mustache,  wearing 
a  slouch  derby  hat,  and  dressed  in  dark,  light-col- 
ored clothes — and  then  you'll  have  the  man." 

"I'm  sure  the  police  ought  to  be  able  to  lay  their 
hands  on  him  at  once,"  I  said.  "But  it's  no  matter. 
I  can  hardly  imagine  the  tongs  hiring  a  gang  of 
burglars  to  steal  the  girl.  However,  I'll  have  men 
enough  around  here  to  give  them  other  things  to 
think  about  if  they  come  near  the  house." 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  sleep  easier,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
drick  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "It's  a  comfort  to  one's 
mind  to  know  that  there's  some  one  looking  after 
your  safety.  It's  not  strong-minded,  but  it's  much 
more  satisfying  than  having  the  responsibility  one's 
self."  She  paid  this  tribute  to  the  protecting  hand 
of  man  with  an  infinitely  charming  condescension, 
and  then  at  a  sound  from  without  changed  her  tone 
to  earnest  admonition:  "And  now  I  hear  Mercy 
coming,  and  you're  not  to  say  a  word  of  worri- 
ments." 

"Mum's  the  word,"  I  replied,  pleased  to  enter  into 
the  bonds  of  conspiracy;  and  a  moment  later  Miss 
Fillmore  entered,  breathless,  followed  by  Mr.  Bald- 
win clothed  in  supercilious  indignation. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  cried  Miss  Kendrick, 
starting  up  impulsively,  and  embracing  Miss  Fill- 
more. 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  returned  her  friend  in  a  disturbed 
voice,  "it's  nothing  much,  I  think — "  She  hesitated 


LAYING    DOWN    THE    LAW         207 

in  evident  unwillingness  to  alarm  her  hostess,  but 
Mr.  Baldwin's  indignation  was  repressed  by  no  such 
consideration. 

"It's  another  demonstration  by  Mr.  Hampden's 
friends,"  he  said  with  something  of  heat  in  his  cold 
cynical  voice.  "That  blatherskite  Kearney  has  led 
a  crowd  of  hoodlums  up  Nob  Hill,  and  it  looks  as 
though  there  would  be  wild  times  before  the  night 
is  over.  We  passed  a  gang  of  the  riffraff  a  few  min- 
utes ago,  and  they  were  headed  up  California  Street, 
yelling  like  wild  Indians  about  burning  down  the 
Stanford  and  Hopkins  places.  It's  a  fine  pass  that 
this  toleration  of  the  worst  elements  has  brought  us 
to.  There's  just  one  way  to  deal  with  those  fellows, 
and  that's  to  call  out  the  troops  and  mow  them  down. 
If  we  were  under  a  city  government  that  had  the 
first  notion  of  protecting  life  and  property,  it  would 
have  had  the  whole  gang  in  jail  without  waiting  for 
murder  and  arson." 

With  this  threat  in  the  air,  the  Nob  Hill  meeting 
became  a  matter  of  immediate  interest.  If  a  riot 
should  start  at  that  point,  it  might  be  followed  by 
an  attack  on  the  Van  Ness  Avenue  district,  and  it 
evidently  behooved  me  to  judge  for  myself  the  tem- 
per and  designs  of  the  crowd. 

"If  my  friends  are  engaged  in  any  such  desperate 
business,  I'm  afraid  it's  my  duty  to  keep  them  from 
getting  any  further  into  mischief,"  I  said;  "so  I'll 
bid  you  a  good  evening." 

"You  don't  mean  you  are  going  out  into  that  mob, 
do  you  ?"  cried  Miss  Kendrick. 


208         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

"That  is  my  present  purpose,"  I  replied  with  some 
exultation  at  the  anxiety  betrayed  in  her  tone  and 
look. 

"Well,  I'm  sure  you're  old  enough  to  know  better, 
but  I  see  you  are  an  obstinate  man-creature,  and  it's 
no  use  to  say  anything  to  you.  But  when  you  get 
there,  I  hope  you'll  remember  that  you're  not  a  regi- 
ment of  soldiers,  and  leave  the  business  of  the  police 
to  the  police." 

"Send  word  if  you're  arrested,"  said  Mr.  Bald- 
win scornfully,  "and  I'll  see  what  can  be  done  about 
bail." 

I  bowed  my  thanks,  and  went  out  into  the  hall 
where  I  found  Miss  Fillmore  awaiting  me. 

"Do  you  think  Mr.  Parks  is  in  that  mob?"  she 
asked,  with  a  charming  air  of  embarrassment. 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  I  replied. 

"He  is  so  impulsive,"  she  said.  "I  saw  him  this 
afternoon,  and  he  was  very  much  excited  over  some- 
thing that  happened  to  Mr.  Merwin.  I  am  very 
much  afraid  he  will  let  his  feelings  run  away  with 
him  to-night." 

There  was  a  depth  of  anxiety  in  her  eyes  that 
Parks  ought  to  have  been  proud  to  inspire,  and  even 
with  the  call  of  conflict  urging  me  to  be  gone,  I  spoke 
a  few  words  of  comfort,  and  reflected  on  the  mys- 
teries of  attraction  that  should  draw  together  the 
gentle  Mercy  and  the  impassioned  leader  of  revolt 
against  society. 

"If  you  find  him  to-night,  try  to  restrain  him," 
she  pleaded.  "It  is  his  good  heart — his  sympathy 


LAYING   DOWN    THE   LAW         209 

with  the  suffering — that  brings  him  into  these  trou- 
bles." 

"I  shall  do  all  I  can,"  I  promised. 

Outside  the  house,  I  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  to 
see  that  my  watchmen  were  on  duty,  and  to  learn  if 
they  had  observed  any  signs  of  trouble. 

"No,"  said  Andrews,  the  head  watchman,  "there's 
been  nothing  worse  than  a  gang  of  hoodlums  going 
up  toward  Nob  Hill,  and  yelling  like  Comanches. 
But  one  of  'em  makes  me  a  bit  suspicious,  for  as  he 
passes,  he  says,  'That's  the  house.'  I  says  to  myself 
that  there's  a  chance  he  means  this  one,  so  I've  cau- 
tioned the  boys  to  be  wide  awake." 

"How  many  are  on  duty  to-night  ?" 

"Four  besides  myself — Reardon  and  Selfridge, 
Hunt  and  Carr." 

"Well,  get  two  more  to  stand  watch  with  you  to- 
morrow night,  and  till  further  orders."  And  with 
Andrews'  assurance  that  he  knew  two  trustworthy 
men  for  the  place,  I  ran  down  the  steps  and  hastened 
up  the  street  toward  Nob  Hill. 

As  I  reached  the  plateau,  the  meeting  appeared  to 
have  resolved  itself  into  small  groups,  that  now  scat- 
tered, now  coalesced,  and  then  scattered  again,  with 
shouts  and  cries  of  men.  There  were  roars  of  anger 
followed  by  jeers,  and  shouted  orders,  and  the  ele- 
ments of  disorder  circled  hither  and  thither  in  aim- 
less dispersion.  Hoodlums  elbowed  me  from  the 
sidewalk.  A  policeman  caught  me  by  the  arm  and 
whirled  me  around  with  a  curt  order  to  "Git  out  of 
this  now,"  and  I  recognized  that  the  forces  of  law 


210         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

and  order  had  replied  to  the  challenge  of  the  agi- 
tators. 

I  pressed  my  way  forward,  by  avoiding  the  scat- 
tered police,  and  at  last  reached  the  corner  of  Mason 
and  California  Streets  by  the  Hopkins  mansion. 
There  was  still  a  mob  of  a  thousand  or  more,  strug- 
gling about  a  shouting  group,  thinning  from  mo- 
ment to  moment,  under  the  efforts  of  the  police. 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Parks,  with  mouth  open  and 
fist  raised.  Then  he  disappeared;  a  company  of  po- 
lice appeared  in  the  speaker's  place,  and  the  mob 
melted  away  with  marvelous  rapidity.  The  police 
formed  in  company  front,  swept  along  the  block, 
and  then  with  a  right-about-face  returned,  and  broke 
up  into  twos  and  threes  in  chase  of  groups  of  dis- 
order. 

As  the  upper  block  was  nearly  cleared,  I  caught 
sight  of  a  policeman  with  whom  I  had  a  nodding  ac- 
quaintance. 

"You've  got  a  handful  of  trouble  to-night,"  I  said, 
as  he  paused  for  breath. 

"Throuble  by  the  armful,"  he  said  indignantly. 
"That  blatherskite  Kearney  ought  to  be  in  the  tanks, 
with  all  that  gang  of  fish-horn  shouters  that  fol- 
lows him.  He's  making  us  more  throuble  than  all 
the  haythin  divils  between  Goat  Island  and  Washer- 
woman's Bay,  and  that's  not  sayin'  a  little." 

"I  didn't  get  here  in  time  to  hear  what  he  said." 

The  policeman  gave  an  indignant  snort,  and 
paused  to  order  a  trio  of  young  men  to  "git  home 
and  out  of  here  now." 


LAYING    DOWN    THE    LAW         211 

"Well,"  he  said,  turning  to  me  again,  "you  needn't 
lose  slape  for  what  you've  missed.  He  told  that 
crowd  of  howling  hoodlums  that  these  houses  here 
was  built  with  the  loot  squeezed  out  of  their  pockets, 
whin  hiven  knows  that  they  wouldn't  do  enough 
wurruk  in  tin  thousand  years  to  build  wan  side  of 
that  fince.  Thin  he  says»to  'em,  'What's  the  matter 
wid  yez  is  thot  the  railroad  hires  the  haythins  in- 
stead of  puttin'  youse  on  the  job' — as  if  those  hoods 
would  lave  town  and  lift  pick  and  shovel  on  the 
grade  to  save  their  sowls  from  the  Ould  Wan  him- 
self. An'  at  last  he  says,  'I  give  the  leprous  corpora- 
tion jist  thirty  days  to  fire  their  hay  thin  shovelers, 
an'  if  they  don't,  I'll  lade  yez  up  here  to  hang  Stan- 
ford and  Crocker  out  of  their  own  windows,  an' 
burn  their  houses  on  top  of  thim.'  Thin  some 
drunken  hood  yells,  'Hang  'em  now !'  An'  with  that 
we  clubs  'em  good  and  hard.  Now  we've  got  'em  on 
the  run,  an'  we've  got  ordhers  to  keep  'em  on  the  run 
till  they've  had  enough." 

"Was  Kearney  arrested?"  I  asked. 

"I  think  not,  sor,  but  some  of  the  gang  with  him 
was." 

"Is  there  any  danger  of  an  attack  on  the  houses  on 
Van  Ness  Avenue?" 

"It  don't  look  so,  sor.  The  hoodlums  don't  seem 
to  be  looking  above  wash-houses  now,  an'  most  of 
thim  are  ready  to  hunt  their  holes.  Well,  good  night 
to  ye,  sor.  I  must  head  off  this  gang  here."  And  he 
ran  up  Mason  Street  flourishing  his  club  in  chase  of 
a  dozen  venturesome  boys. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BIG   SAM'S   WARNING 

With  the  deliquescence  of  the  elements  of  dis- 
order, I  was  relieved  of  the  immediate  fear  of  danger 
to  Wharton  Kendrick's  place,  and  my  thoughts  re- 
curred to  Parks.  From  his  sudden  disappearance  at 
the  rush  of  the  police,  I  could  scarce  doubt  that  he 
was  under  arrest,  and  the  remembrance  of  Mercy's 
anxious  face  turned  my  steps  toward  the  Old  City 
Hall  to  learn  the  extent  of  his  troubles,  and  the 
chances  of  securing  his  release. 

Kearny  Street  was  thronged  with  groups  of  ex- 
cited men,  and  I  approached  the  old  municipal  build- 
ing through  a  surging  mob  that  was  kept  in  motion 
by  the  police. 

"They've  got  Kearney  in  there !"  cried  a  frenzied 
follower  of  the  agitators,  pointing  to  the  Old  City 
Hall.  "Let's  take  him  out." 

"No,  they  haven't !"  called  another.  "They  didn't 
dare  arrest  him." 

A  policeman  brought  down  a  club  impartially  on 
the  head  of  the  inciter  of  disorder  and  the  friend  of 
peace,  with  gruff  orders  to  "Move  on!"  And 
through  many  difficulties  I  made  my  way  to  the  door 
on  Merchant  Street  that  opened  to  the  City  Prison. 
The  entrance  was  well  guarded  by  several  stout 

212 


BIG    SAM'S    WARNING  213 

policemen,  but  my  card  secured  admission.  At  the 
inner  gate,  however,  I  was  halted  for  a  heart-search- 
ing catechism  as  to  my  profession,  standing,  and 
present  purposes;  but  at  last  the  gate  swung  open, 
and  I  stood  by  the  desk  sergeant,  and  questioned  him 
in  regard  to  the  arrested. 

A  dozen  men  were  being  searched,  and  their  torn 
clothing  and  hard  faces  testified  to  the  rough  treat- 
ment they  had  received — and  earned. 

"Parks  ?"  said  the  desk  sergeant,  running  his  fin- 
ger down  his  list.  "He  isn't  booked  under  that  name. 
Look  at  Cell  Three,  and  see  if  you  find  him  there." 
He  pointed  across  the  passage  where  a  crowd  of 
prisoners  was  herded  behind  bars,  like  wild  ani- 
mals in  the  cages  at  a  menagerie.  In  the  cage  to 
which  he  pointed,  a  score  of  rough  men  had  been 
thrust,  and  were  glaring  out  fiercely  or  sullenly  ac- 
cording to  their  nature.  Parks  was  not  among  them, 
and  I  was  turning  away  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  when 
I  heard  my  name  called  with  unmistakable  Chinese 
intonation. 

"Misseh  Hampden!"  called  the  voice  once  more, 
and  I  turned  to  an  adjoining  cage  to  see  a  mixed 
crowd  of  Chinese  and  whites  seated  on  a  bench  in 
sullen  dejection.  Then  the  Chinaman  nearest  me 
rose  and  came  to  the  bars,  and  I  recognized  the  smil- 
ing Kwan  Luey. 

"Why,  Kwan  Luey!"  I  exclaimed.  "What  are 
you  doing  here  ?" 

"Oh,  p'liceman  say  catch-em  play  fan-tan  my  place 
— bling-em  jail — all  same  fool — bling  Kwan  Luey." 


214         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

I  recalled  that  keeping  a  gambling  game  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  part  of  Kwan  Lucy's  multifarious  ac- 
tivities, and  expressed  my  hope  that  this  would  be  a 
warning  to  him. 

"Nev'  mind,"  said  Kwan  Luey  cheerfully.  "Plitty 
soon  my  cousin  him  come  bling  bail — one  hund' 
dollah  fo'  me — ten  dollah  piecee  fo'  them."  And 
Kwan  Luey  smiled  with  pride  at  the  distinction  rec- 
ognized in  the  disparity  of  the  price  of  freedom. 
"You  catch-em  letteh  all  same  I  lite-em  ?" 

"I  think  I  kept  the  letter,"  I  said,  remembering 
the  tangled  verbiage  that  had  called  me  to  his  store 
to  receive  Big  Sam's  money  under  the  disguise  of  a 
prize  in  the  lottery,  and  wondering  what  he  could 
want  with  it. 

"No — no,"  he  protested,  catching  the  idea  in  my 
mind.  "I  lite-em  new  letteh.  You  no  get-em  ?" 

"No." 

Kwan  Luey  looked  disappointed. 

"Maybe  you  likee  see  Big  Sam,  eh  ?"  he  said  with 
an  insinuating  air. 

"Oh,  Big  Sam  wants  to  see  me,  does  he  ?" 

"You  likee  see  Big  Sam,"  repeated  Kwan  Luey 
with  the  air  of  one  stating  a  recognized  fact.  "May- 
be him  show  you  how  pick  plenty  good  ticket,  eh  ?" 

"Does  he  want  to  see  me  to-night  ?" 

"I  no  know — him  no  say.  Too  many  p'lice — too 
many  hoodlum — maybe  you  no  likee,"  said  Kwan 
Luey,  with  a  judicial  view  of  the  obstacles  to  an  in- 
terview with  the  King  of  Chinatown. 

I  decided  that  I  would  take  the  chances,  though  it 


BIG   SAM'S    WARNING  215 

was  approaching  midnight,  when  my  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  voice  of  Parks,  and  I  turned  to  see 
him  at  the  desk.  My  heart  sank  with  the  thought  of 
Mercy's  disappointment,  when  it  was  buoyed  up  once 
more  by  the  discovery  that  he  was  not  in  custody. 
Instead  of  standing  there  a  prisoner,  he  was  piling 
little  stacks  of  gold  before  the  desk  sergeant,  and  I 
divined  that  he  was  producing  bail  for  those  follow- 
ers who  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  police.  As  he  shoved  the  last  of  the 
stacks  across  the  desk  and  took  the  receipt  that  was 
offered  him,  he  caught  sight  of  me. 

"What  brings  you  here  ?"  he  cried  in  surprise. 

"I  have  come,  like  yourself,  on  an  errand  of 
mercy.  But  I  am  the  one  who  has  the  greater  reason 
to  be  surprised."  I  marveled  at  his  rashness  in  dar- 
ing to  enter  the  prison,  and  marveled  still  more  that 
he  was  not  put  under  arrest  where  he  stood.  Then 
I  reflected  that  it  was  most  unlikely  that  the  police- 
men on  guard  at  the  prison  had  seen  him  at  the  Nob 
Hill  meeting  or  at  the  rescue  of  Merwin ;  and  if  his 
description  was  on  the  books  it  was  not  definite 
enough  to  serve  for  identification. 

"By  heavens !  They  call  this  law !"  he  cried,  wav- 
ing his  hand  around  at  the  prison.  "Do  you  know, 
sir,  that  they  have  set  Baumgartner's  bail  at  five  hun- 
dred dollars,  and  threaten  to  rearrest  him  as  he  sets 
foot  out  of  prison,  if  I  secure  his  release  with  that 
sum!" 

"Then  I  think  you  had  better  save  your  five  hun- 
dred," I  replied. 


216         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"You  can  take  it  coolly,  Hampden,  but  I  can't.  It 
makes  my  blood  boil.  If  I  had  my  way,  I'd  be  here 
taking  these  men  out  with  ax  and  sledge,  instead  of 
with  gold.  I'd  have  done  it  anyhow  if  they  had  had 
the  courage  to  arrest  Kearney.  They  didn't  dare!" 
And  he  looked  threateningly  around  the  prison,  and 
then  counted  the  members  of  his  band  for  whom  the 
authorities  had  accepted  bail.  "Pass  out,"  he  said 
to  them,  and  as  he  brought  up  the  rear  of  his  party, 
I  followed  him.  They  were  of  the  typical  hoodlum 
class,  their  insolence  curbed  for  the  moment  by  the 
shadow  of  the  prison,  and  they  slouched  with  resent- 
ful fear  from  the  watchful  eyes  of  the  police.  One 
rlgure  among  them  stirred  a  dormant  memory,  and 
then,  as  the  band  scattered  in  the  street,  I  recalled  to 
mind  the  spy  whose  gift  of  an  overcoat  had  opened 
the  door  of  the  fates.  He  was  gone  before  I  could 
speak,  and  I  turned  to  Parks. 

"How  did  you  escape  arrest  ?"  I  asked. 

"Escape!"  cried  Parks.  "I  courted  arrest,  but  the 
coward  hounds  of  aristocracy  had  not  the  courage  to 
lay  hands  on  any  of  the  leaders.  They  know  as  well 
as  I  that  the  wrath  of  an  outraged  people  would  not 
leave  one  stone  of  the  jail  upon  another,  if  they  ven- 
tured to  seize  Kearney,  or  even  so  humble  a  person 
as  I." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  came  down  here  expect- 
ing to  find  you  in  custody,  and  to  see  what  I  could 
do  toward  getting  you  out.  No,  you  needn't  thank 
me  for  it.  Give  your  thanks  to  a  young  lady  who  is 
paying  you  the  compliment  of  more  worry  than  you 


BIG   SAM'S   WARNING  217 

are  worth.  I  came  to  relieve  her  anxiety — not 
yours." 

Parks  halted  as  we  reached  the  corner  of  Mer- 
chant and  Kearny  Streets,  and  I  saw  the  tense  and 
angry  lines  soften  on  his  face. 

"Hampden,  I  won't  pretend  to  misunderstand 
you.  You're  right.  I'm  not  worth  her  worry — nor 
is  any  man.  I  am  grateful;  but  I  tell  you,  as  I  tell 
her,  that  our  private  interests,  hopes,  affections,  are 
nothing  compared  with  the  great  cause  of  the  peo- 
ple." 

"Well,  for  her  sake,  I  hope  you'll  keep  out  of 
jail." 

Parks  took  off  his  hat,  and  shook  his  mane  with 
an  angry  nod. 

"A  few  more  days,"  he  cried,  "and  this  cowardly 
set  of  time-servers  will  be  begging  my  protection  in- 
stead of  threatening  my  liberty." 

"Are  you  ready  to  strike  a  blow?"  I  asked  with 
sudden  interest. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said  darkly.  "We  await  only 
the  word  from  our  brethren  in  the  East.  You  can 
see  the  crisis  approaching  there.  The  railroad  strikes 
have  spread  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Missouri.  The 
frightened  bloodsuckers  of  society  are  calling  out 
the  troops  in  the  desperate  hope  of  prolonging  their 
hold  on  the  labor  and  productive  resources  of  the 
country.  When  the  hour  strikes — " 

Parks  had  gradually  raised  his  voice  in  oratorical 
fervor,  despite  the  nearness  of  the  police  headquar- 
ters, but  at  this  moment  he  was  interrupted  by  a  tall, 


218          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

strong-faced  man,  who  seized  him  by  the  shoulder 
and  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

"Hampden,"  said  Parks,  "I  am  called.  Will  you 
be  kind  enough  to  send  word  that  I  am  safe  ?  I  shall 
see  your  friend  to-morrow."  And  with  a  nod  he 
plunged  into  the  crowd  that  blocked  Kearny  Street 
and  disappeared. 

At  the  drug  store  on  the  corner  I  scribbled  a  note 
that  should  set  Miss  Fillmore's  mind  at  rest,  and 
with  some  difficulty  found  a  messenger  who  would 
deliver  it.  Then  with  misgivings  I  shouldered  my 
way  through  the  crowd,  crossed  the  Plaza,  and  en- 
tered Chinatown. 

The  echoes  of  the  Nob  Hill  meeting  reverberated 
here  as  well  as  about  the  Old  City  Hall,  but  with  a 
far  different  note.  In  place  of  the  illuminated  streets, 
the  gay  lanterns  and  the  open  doors  of  invitation  of 
other  days,  there  were  barred  entrances  everywhere ; 
the  lights,  where  seen  at  all,  flickered  behind  closed 
shutters,  and  the  darkened  buildings  were  sur- 
rounded with  an  atmosphere  of  sullen  watchfulness. 
There  was  evident  fear  that  the  meeting  on  the  hill 
was  but  the  prelude  to  an  attack  on  Chinatown,  and 
Chinatown  was  prepared. 

The  entrance  to  Big  Sam's  house  was  closed  and 
barred,  like  the  other  doors  of  Waverly  Place,  but 
lights  shone  through  the  chinks  in  the  shutters,  and 
there  were  sounds  of  men  stirring  behind ;  so  with- 
out hesitation  I  gave  a  resounding  rap  on  the  panel. 
The  noises  within  ceased  suddenly,  but  there  was  no 
response  to  my  summons.  I  rapped  again,  and  then 


BIG    SAM'S    WARNING  219 

a  third  time,  before  a  singsong  voice  cried  through 
the  door: 

"Wha'  fo'  ?    What  you  wan'  ?" 

"I  want  to  see  Big  Sam,"  I  explained. 

"No  catch-em  Big  Sam,"  returned  the  voice 
harshly. 

"You  tell  Big  Sam  Mr.  Hampden  here  to  see 
him,"  I  cried.  "He  send  tell  me  come.  You  sabby 
tell  him  now — right  away." 

There  was  a  sudden  outbreak  of  Chinese  voices  in 
argument  and  protest,  and  then  silence  followed  for 
so  long  that  I  was  about  to  rap  again,  when  the  same 
voice  called  through  the  door : 

"How  many  you  come  ?" 

"One  man." 

There  were  sounds  of  a  barricade  removed,  and 
the  door  opened  cautiously  for  a  few  inches  while  its 
guardian  reconnoitered.  Reassured  by  my  solitary 
figure,  he  stood  aside  for  me  to  pass. 

At  the  last  moment  my  lagging  judgment  sug- 
gested the  folly  of  putting  myself  as  a  hostage  in 
the  hands  of  the  yellow  men  in  such  a  time  of  storm. 
But  it  was  too  late  to  retreat  with  honor,  and  I 
slipped  through  the  opening  with  all  the  boldness 
and  self-possession  I  could  assume,  and  saw  the  door 
bolted  and  barricaded  against  other  intrusion.  I 
looked  narrowly  about  me. 

Within  the  store  that  formed  the  entrance  to  Big 
Sam's  establishment  were  twenty  or  thirty  Chinese, 
and  in  the  smoky  light  of  the  lamps  I  could  distin- 
guish the  expression  of  suspicion  and  hatred  that 


220         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

had  escaped  from  behind  the  "no-sabby"  mask  of 
the  coolie.  The  passions  of  the  meeting  on  the  hill 
had  stirred  an  answering  passion  in  the  breasts  of 
the  yellow  man,  and  I  saw  that  in  this  place,  at  least, 
he  was  armed  and  ready  for  battle.  The  band  pre- 
tended to  take  no  notice  of  me,  but  the  running  fire 
of  conversation  that  followed  my  entrance  told  me 
by  its  unmistakable  accents  that  my  coming  had 
roused  the  instincts  of  combat,  as  the  sight  of  the 
prey  rouses  the  hunting  instincts  of  the  tiger. 

Without  a  word  a  Chinaman  beckoned  me  to  fol- 
low him,  and  with  some  trepidation  I  stumbled  up 
the  stair  in  his  footsteps.  He  stood  aside  at  the  en- 
trance to  Big  Sam's  room  of  state,  motioned  me  to 
enter,  and  as  I  stepped  in,  he  closed  the  door  behind 
me. 

For  a  moment  I  was  disturbed  to  find  that  I  was 
the  only  person  in  the  room,  and  looked  about  with 
curiosity  to  know  whether  I  was  spied  upon  from 
some  hidden  post  of  observation.  After  my  experi- 
ence on  the  previous  visit,  I  could  not  doubt  that 
more  than  one  hidden  entrance  led  to  the  room,  and 
I  suspected  that  more  than  one  pair  of  eyes  watched 
me  from  hidden  peep-holes.  The  dark  carved  wood 
of  the  furniture  and  walls,  and  the  figures  in  the  in- 
tricately embroidered  hangings  glowered  at  me  with 
something  of  the  repressed  hostility  of  the  guards 
down-stairs.  The  life  and  turmoil  of  the  city  from 
which  I  had  just  come  seemed  already  at  a  vast  dis- 
tance from  that  oriental  hall,  and  I  could  not  but 
reflect  how  easy  it  would  be  to  make  certain  that  I 


BIG    SAM'S    WARNING  221 

never  returned  to  the  modern  San  Francisco  that 
seemed  now  to  lie  so  far  away. 

With  a  discretion  that  would  recommend  me  in 
the  eyes  of  any  watcher,  I  took  a  chair  far  enough 
from  the  desk  to  avoid  the  suspicion  of  a  wish  to 
pry  into  Big  Sam's  papers,  and  surveyed  the  apart- 
ment as  I  impatiently  awaited  the  coming  of  its 
owner. 

Suddenly  the  voice  of  Big  Sam  sounded  behind 
me. 

"I  am  always  glad  to  welcome  Mr.  Hampden — 
even  when  he  is  the  bearer  of  bad  news." 

I  had  heard  no  sound  of  his  entry,  and  turned  with 
a  start  at  his  voice.  Then  I  exclaimed  in  surprise. 
Instead  of  Big  Sam,  in  his  Chinese  costume,  I  saw 
an  American  gentleman  regarding  me  with  an  im- 
passive face.  His  light  plaid  suit  was  of  fashionable 
cut,  and  no  detail  of  costume  was  wanting.  But  for 
the  voice,  I  should  have  supposed,  at  first  glance, 
that  another  visitor  had  followed  me  into  Big  Sam's 
reception-room,  and  it  was  only  a  closer  look  that 
revealed  the  features  of  Big  Sam  himself.  A  touch 
of  art  had  lightened  the  color  of  his  skin,  and  only 
the  eyes  and  cheek-bones  suggested  his  Asiatic 
origin. 

"I  hope  it  is  no  bad  news  that  brings  me,"  I  said, 
as  Big  Sam  advanced  to  shake  my  hand.  "I  think  I 
bring  none  myself." 

Big  Sam  seated  himself  behind  his  desk,  looking 
incongruously  out  of  place — a  modern  American  as 
master  of  an  oriental  domain. 


222         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"In  this  time  of  broils  and  alarms,  one's  first 
thought  must  be  of  sudden  evil,"  he  said  gravely. 
"You  may  guess,  by  my  disguise,  I  have  been  ob- 
serving how  your  people  comport  themselves  when 
they  assemble  to  consider  the  interests  of  their  race. 
I  have  been  much  edified." 

In  his  American  dress,  and  with  his  perfect  com- 
mand of  English,  I  had  no  doubt  that  he  might  have 
brushed  shoulders  with  Kearney  himself  without 
rousing  suspicion  of  his  nationality. 

"It  has  been  an  inspiring  evening,"  I  replied  with 
a  gravity  equal  to  his  own.  "I  see  you  have  prepared 
for  trouble." 

"I  am  not  insensible  to  the  advantages  or  rights 
of  self-defense,"  he  said  dryly.  "But  I  trust  that  you 
have  found  nothing  incorrect  in  our  attitude — if  I 
may  borrow  a  phrase  from  your  diplomats.  I  would 
be  unwilling  to  take  any  course  objectionable  to  the 
country  that  is  my  host — possibly  a  somewhat  un- 
willing host,  if  I  may  judge  by  the  words  I  have 
heard  to-night."  Big  Sam  looked  at  me  with  the  in- 
scrutable irony  of  the  Orient. 

"I  can  see  no  ground  for  complaint,"  I  replied.  "I 
have  come  to  learn,  not  to  reprove  or  to  warn." 

"I  am,  as  ever,  at  your  service." 

"I  was  happy  enough  to  meet  our  estimable  friend 
Kwan  Luey — under  somewhat  difficult  and  depress- 
ing circumstances,  I  may  add — and  he  was  so  in- 
sistent in  his  assumption  that  I  wished  to  see  you 
that  I  thought  it  wise  to  test  his  theory  before  I  went 
to  sleep." 


BIG    SAM'S    WARNING  223 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  swept  across  Big  Sam's 
face. 

"Kwan  Luey  has  his  moments  of  divination,"  he 
said,  and  then  fell  silent. 

"May  I  inquire  what  particularly  I  wished  to  see 
you  about?"  I  asked  at  last. 

Big  Sam's  eyes  studied  me  keenly. 

"I  warned  you — not  so  long  ago,  Mr.  Hampden 
— that  strange  events  were  preparing  in  your  city. 
May  I  ask  what  is  now  your  opinion  on  them  ?  I  am 
interested  to  hear." 

"I  must  congratulate  you  on  the  accuracy  of  your 
information,  though  I  am  still  at  a  loss  to  surmise 
why  you  should  have  been  selected  for  the  confi- 
dence. And  as  for  the  disorders,  they  are  but  a 
temporary  effervescence,  which  will  die  away,  or  be 
suppressed.  But  there  is  one  thing  permanent  about 
them.  They  are  a  crude  expression  of  the  resolve  of 
our  race  to  hold  the  continent  for  itself." 

"Crude  indeed !"  said  Big  Sam  with  energy.  "And 
will  destroy  itself  by  its  own  violence.  I  have  here  a 
paper  showing  the  sentiment  of  your  people  in  the 
Eastern  States.  It  makes  a  protest  against  the  policy 
that  would  exclude  us." 

"I  shan't  begrudge  you  the  pleasure  you  can  get 
out  of  that  sort  of  comment.  But  I  can  assure  you 
that  race  feeling  will  prevail." 

"Over  private  interest?  I  believe  not.  And  the 
private  interest  of  your  governing  classes  is  with 
the  free  admission  of  my  people.  But  enough  of  that. 
Where  is  your  charge — and  mine — Moon  Ying?" 


224         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

He  threw  this  question  at  me  as  though  he  hoped  to 
surprise  some  admission. 

"She  is  still  with  Miss  Kendrick." 

"What  arrangements  have  you  made  to  protect 
her?" 

"Protect  her?  From  what?  Are  the  highbinders 
so  desperate  as  to  think  of  attacking  Mr.  Kendrick's 
house?  I  trust  you  will  warn  them  that  this  would 
be  something  far  more  serious  than  all  Kearney's 
oratory.  It  would  mean  the  destruction  of  China- 
town." 

"I  understand  you,"  said  Big  Sam  suavely.  "I 
have  no  doubt  that  an  attack  by  the  tongs  on  Mr. 
Kendrick's  house  would  bring  a  terrible  reprisal. 
Fortunately  there  are  few  among  my  people  who  do 
not  understand  that  quite  as  well  as  you." 

"Nevertheless  there  is  something  you  fear,"  I 
said,  as  Big  Sam  hesitated. 

"You  must  understand,  Mr.  Hampden,  that  this 
girl  is  a  very  desirable  piece  of  property.  There  is 
her  money  value,  which  is  considerable.  And  there 
is  the  further  consideration  that  the  possession  of 
her  would  give  a  tong  a  certain  power  and  distinc- 
tion. The  contest  has  come  to  be  a  point  of  honor — 
or  perhaps  you  would  say  dishonor.  At  all  events 
the  tongs  have  not  ceased  to  plan  to  recover  her, 
and  I  have  information  that  the  Hop  Sing  Tong  has 
devised  a  plan  to  seize  her  by  force.  It  would,  of 
course,  be  suicide  for  them  to  carry  out  the  plan 
themselves.  But  what  they  can  not  do  themselves 
can  be  done  by  white  men.  Your  race  is  not  more 


BIG    SAM'S    WARNING  225 

scrupulous  than  mine,  Mr.  Hampden.  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  Hop  Sing  Tong  has  found  a  gang 
of  white  men  who  are  ready,  for  a  money  considera- 
tion, to  break  into  Mr.  Kendrick's  house  and  carry 
off  the  girl." 

This  warning  struck  me  with  the  force  of  a 
physical  blow.  It  was  scarcely  possible  that  Big 
Sam  could  be  mistaken,  and  I  must  reckon  on  the 
attack  as  an  imminent  danger.  And  in  swift  imagi- 
nation I  could  hear  the  screams  of  Laura  Kendrick 
and  Mercy  Fillmore  joining  those  of  Moon  Ying, 
as  they  struggled  in  the  grasp  of  ruffians,  and  could 
see  the  crackling  flames  as  the  raiders  left  destruction 
behind  them. 

"I  have  had  reason  to-night  to  surmise  that  some- 
thing was  afoot,"  I  said,  "but  I  did  not  suspect  this." 
And  then  I  retailed  to  Big  Sam  the  story  of  the  visit 
of  the  old  Chinaman,  the  attack  of  the  three  raiders 
of  the  'early  morning,  and  the  questioning  of  the 
mysterious  tramp. 

"The  old  man  is  Chung  Toy,  sometimes  known  to 
your  people  as  'Little  John.'  He  was,  you  will  re- 
member, the  custodian  of  the  girl.  He  is  now  in  the 
employ  of  the  Hop  Sings.  The  white  men  I  can 
suppose  were  spies,  sent  to  reconnoiter,  though  I 
am  puzzled  about  the  morning  raiders." 

"Does  your  information  go  so  far  as  to  suggest 
when  the  attack  will  be  made  ?" 

"No." 

"And  have  you  any  word  of  advice  ?" 

"Advice?   Yes.    I  should  advise  that  you  return 


226          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  girl  to  my  custody.  I  confess  that  she  would  be 
an  embarrassment — " 

"You  will  not  be  put  in  any  such  awkward  posi- 
tion," I  interrupted.  "I  can  speak  for  Miss  Kendrick, 
and  say  that  she  will  keep  the  girl  till  the  conditions 
are  fulfilled." 

"Then,"  said  Big  Sam  composedly,  "I  leave  to 
your  best  judgment  the  way  to  meet  the  danger." 
And  with  a  bow  that  signified  the  end  of  the  inter- 
view, he  clapped  his  hands,  and  a  young  Chinaman 
appeared  to  conduct  me  down  the  stairs.  And  as  I 
passed  the  sullen  guards,  and  heard  the  door  bolted 
and  barred  behind  me,  I  admired  the  diplomacy  with 
which  Big  Sam  had  washed  his  hands  of  his  respon- 
sibilities, and  left  them  to  me. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LITTLE  JOHN    AS   A    MAN    OF   ACTION 

Big  Sam's  warning  was  enough  to  drive  me  once 
more  to  the  Kendrick  house  to  make  certain  that  all 
was  secure.  I  could  suppose,  from  his  words,  that  he 
did  not  expect  an  immediate  attack,  yet  it  was  by 
no  means  unlikely  that  Little  John's  ruffians  would 
take  advantage  of  the  disorders  of  the  night  to  make 
their  attack.  But  all  was  quiet  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  Andrews  reported  nothing  more  threatening 
than  a  few  disorderly  hoodlums  who  had  gone  shout- 
ing past  an  hour  or  two  before. 

I  confided  to  Andrews  the  warning  of  an  intended 
attack,  and  directed  him  to  engage  six  men  instead 
of  the  two  I  had  previously  ordered. 

"I  think  I  can  find  the  right  sort,"  he  said. 
"There's  some  boys  I  used  to  know  up  in  Nevada 
when  we  were  holding  down  some  claims  against 
big  odds.  Six  of  'em  would  chew  up  a  hundred  of 
these  cigarette-smoking  hoods."  And  he  told  with 
keen  enjoyment  of  the  adventurous  days  of  the  claim- 
jumpers,  when  a  man's  life  and  property  depended 
on  his  strength  and  courage  and  sureness  of  aim. 

I  paced  the  watch  with  him  till  the  stars  began  to 
pale  before  the  coming  day,  and  then  gladly  sought 
home  and  bed.  My  sleep  was  troubled  with  vague, 

227 


228         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

indefinable  dreams  of  coming  danger,  and  it  was  late 
when  I  rose  with  the  presentiment  that  a  crisis  was 
approaching. 

It  was  a  Sunday  morning,  yet  the  apprehensions 
roused  by  my  dreams  found  abundant  reinforcement 
when  I  was  once  more  astir.  The  echoes  from  the 
Nob  Hill  meeting  were  still  to  be  heard  in  the  city, 
rousing  apprehension  among  the  orderly.  The  news- 
papers treated  it  as  the  sensation  of  the  day,  yet,  from 
their  comments,  I  saw  that  they  had  no  conception 
of  the  real  designs  that  lay  behind  the  activity  of  the 
anti-coolie  agitators.  Clark  reported  to  me  that  the 
Council  of  Nine  had  been  in  session  till  long  after 
midnight,  and  that  the  anti-coolie  clubs  had  been  or- 
dered to  hold  daily  drills.  One  of  the  two  spies  who 
were  detailed  to  keep  watch  on  Peter  Bolton  came 
at  noon  with  the  report  that  Bolton  had  reached  his 
office  before  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  where  he 
had  received  a  visit  frpm  Waldorf,  Parks  and  Red- 
dick,  the  three  most  active  members  of  the  Council. 
As  they  left  Bolton's  office,  Reddick  had  been  heard 
to  say,  "Before  the  week  ends,  we  shall  be  masters 
of  the  city."  And  as  a  final  fillip  to  anxiety,  I  found 
at  my  office  a  tangle-worded  letter,  which  I  recog- 
nized as  the  product  of  Kwan  Lucy's  pen,  that  re- 
called the  warnings  I  had  received  from  Big  Sam. 

With  this  accumulation  of  mental  disturbance,  I 
took  my  way  at  last  to  the  Kendrick  house,  to  lay 
the  tale  of  impending  dangers  before  my  client,  and 
to  give  hint  to  the  young  ladies  of  the  need  for  cau- 
tion. 


A    MAN    OF   ACTION  229 

On  my  arrival,  I  found  the  house  in  confusion. 
There  was  sound  of  excited  voices  within,  and,  as  I 
touched  the  bell,  a  servant  rushed  out  and  down  the 
steps  without  taking  time  to  close  the  door.  I  en- 
tered without  ceremony,  and  a  moment  later  met 
Laura  Kendrick  coming  down  the  stairs,  her  face 
clouded  with  fear  and  indignation. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come!"  she  said  with  a 
gasp  of  relief,  and  the  look  of  fear  faded  out  of  her 
eyes.  "We've  been  scared  out  of  a  year's  growth, 
and  it's  one  of  the  mercies  of  Providence  that  we 
haven't  lost  Moon  Ying.  It's  not  often  I've  wanted 
to  be  a  policeman,  but  I  did  to-day." 

"Well,  I'll  be  your  policeman,  if  you'll  only  tell 
me  what  it's  all  about." 

"It's  a  comfort  to  have  you  say  so,  but  I'm  afraid 
you're  too  late.  He  must  be  ever  so  far  away  by  this 
time." 

"Who  is  it?  What  has  happened?"  I  demanded 
eagerly. 

"Somebody  tried  to  steal  Moon  Ying — that's  what 
has  happened,"  said  Laura  Kendrick  indignantly. 

"Who  did  it?  When?  Did  they  attack  the 
house?"  I  cried,  startled  at  the  promptness  with 
which  my  warnings  had  been  fulfilled. 

"Come  right  up-stairs,"  said  Laura,  impulsively 
seizing  my  arm  and  leading  me.  "You  shall  hear  at 
first-hand  for  yourself." 

This  sudden  captivity  gave  me  so  pleasant  a  thrill 
that  for  a  moment  I  forgot  Moon  Ying  and  my  re- 
sponsibilities, and  betrayed  such  inclination  to  loiter 


230         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

that  I  was  sharply  ordered  to  "walk  faster."  So  in  a 
minute  or  two  I  found  myself  entering  a  room  where 
Moon  Ying,  with  pale  and  frightened  face,  leaned 
back  among  the  pillows  that  covered  a  reclining 
chair,  and  Mercy  Fillmore,  at  Moon  Ying's  side, 
looked  at  us  with  anxious  eyes. 

"This  is  Mr.  Hampden,  Moon  Ying — the  man 
who  rescued  you  from  Chinatown,"  said  Laura. 
"Tell  him  what  happened  to  you." 

Moon  Ying's  resources  of  English  were  scant  at 
best,  and  between  fright,  excitement  and  shyness,  it 
took  much  prompting  and  explanation  from  Laura 
and  Mercy  before  her  story  was  fairly  begun.  But 
when  all  the  tangled  threads  were  straightened  out 
the  tale  ran  thus : 

Moon  Ying  had  of  late  spent  an  hour  or  two  in 
the  middle  of  the  day,  taking  the  air  and  the  sun,  on 
the  lawn  behind  the  house.  An  hour  before  she  had 
been  assisted  to  her  sunny  corner  by  Mercy,  who 
had,  after  a  time,  returned  to  the  house.  Suddenly 
the  back  gate  had  opened,  and  a  Chinaman  had 
slipped  in. 

"How  many?"  I  demanded. 

"One — jus'  one,"  replied  Moon  Ying. 

"How  him  look?" 

"Him  small  man — old  man — all  same  Chung  Toy 
you  one  time  see,"  said  Moon  Ying  in  her  plaintive 
voice. 

The  picture  of  Little  John  with  his  wizened  face, 
his  white,  horse-hair  mustache  and  his  scant  chin- 
whiskers,  rose  before  me. 


A    MAN    OF   ACTION  231 

"Did  he  come  alone?"  I  asked,  incredulous  of  his 
boldness  in  venturing  thus  by  himself. 

"Him  say  two  men  come  'longside  him,  but  I  no 
see.  Him  talk  velly  soft — say  I  come  Chinatown, 
him  makee  me  velly  nice  dless — get  velly  fine  house 
— find  me  velly  good  husband.  I  tell  him  go  'way,  I 
too  muchee  sabby  him.  One  time  I  thlink  him  good 
man — now  I  heap  sabby  him  tell  big  lie — no  got  nice 
dless — no  got  fine  house — no  got  good  husband — I 
all  time  stlay  Miss  Kenlick.  Him  get  velly  mad — 
him  say  velly  bad  thling.  Then  him  say  I  no  go 
alongside  him,  two  men  come  takee  me  so—"  and 
Moon  Ying  raised  her  pretty  little  hands  and  gripped 
fiercely  at  the  air,  with  the  motion  of  one  throttling 
a  victim. 

"What  you  do  then?" 

"I  cly  velly  loud — likee  so — "  and  Moon  Ying  let 
out  a  feminine  screech  that  caused  Laura  and  Mercy 
to  cover  their  ears.  "Then  Chung  Toy  catchee  me, 
so — ,"  and  she  seized  her  arm  roughly, — "put  hand 
so—,"  and  she  covered  her  mouth  with  her  palm.  "I 
cly  one  time  again.  Miss  Kenlick  come.  Miss  Muh 
See  come.  One  man  come.  Chung  Toy  him  lun 
away." 

"Did  you  see  him  ?"  I  asked  of  Laura. 

"Indeed  I  did ;  and  I  could  have  caught  him,  too, 
if  I  hadn't  been  such  a  goose  as  to  be  scared  into  a 
graven  image.  But  by  the  time  I  came  to  life  he  was 
out  of  the  gate.  But  it  was  the  same  man  who  was 
here  last  evening;  and  if  he  had  any  one  with  him, 
they  took  precious  good  care  not  to  show  themselves. 


232         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

He  went  in  such  a  hurry  that  he  left  behind  him  a 
peddler's  basket.  It  had  a  few  silk  handkerchiefs  in 
it.  I  suppose  he  was  going  to  make  them  an  excuse, 
if  he  had  been  stopped  on  coming  in." 

"Where  were  my  men?  There  should  have  been 
two  of  them  on  hand  to  stop  such  fellows.  I  must 
look  into  this."  And  the  spirit  of  judgment  rose 
stern  within  me. 

"Well,"  said  Laura,  "there  was  one  of  your  men 
here,  and  the  other  was  sick,  so  you  needn't  look  so 
cross.  This  one  was  at  the  front  of  the  house,  and 
he  ran  around  to  the  back  at  Moon  Ying's  scream. 
When  he  got  there  that  awful  creature  was  out  of 
the  yard,  so  I  got  him  to  help  us  carry  Moon  Ying 
into  the  house.  Then  he  went  out  the  back  gate,  but 
by  that  time  there  was  no  heathen  in  sight  anywhere. 
But  I've  sent  one  of  the  servants  for  the  police  and 
the  doctor,  and  I  want  your  miserable  Chung  Toy 
put  in  jail  where  he'll  be  out  of  mischief."  And  she 
gave  her  head  a  determined  nod,  as  though  his  fate 
were  settled  beyond  recall. 

"I'll  have  a  warrant  out  before  night,"  I  said,  with 
anger  tingling  in  my  nerves,  "and  he'll  be  laid  by  the 
heels  in  the  City  Prison  if  he  dares  show  himself  on 
the  street." 

"I  don't  think  jail  is  a  very  good  place,  even  for 
bad  people,"  said  Mercy,  "for  it  makes  them  worse ; 
but  I  shall  feel  easier  if  that  man  is  locked  up.  It  is 
too  dangerous  to  have  him  at  large." 

"I  suppose  you  don't  need  any  instructions,"  I 
said,  "but  I'll  venture  to  suggest  that  Moon  Ying 


A    MAN    OF   ACTION  233 

had  better  take  the  air  from  an  up-stairs  window  for 
a  few  days." 

"I  hope  we  have  sense  enough  to  know  that 
much,"  returned  Laura  soberly,  "though  I  don't 
blame  you  for  thinking  we  haven't.  I  shan't  dare  let 
her  out  of  doors  unless  there's  a  regiment  of  soldiers 
about  the  house." 

"I'll  have  a  few  more  men  here  to-morrow;  but 
you'd  better  keep  her  in  till  I  give  the  word  that  all 
is  safe." 

Laura  Kendrick  looked  sharply  at  me. 

"You  needn't  try  to  hide  it,"  she  said.  "I  see  in 
your  face  that  there's  something  more  you're  afraid 
of,  and  you'd  better  tell  it  now  rather  than  later." 

"I  wasn't  intending  to  conceal  it.  In  fact,  I  was 
going  to  warn  you  against  letting  strange  white  men 
into  the  house.  I've  had  a  warning  that  leads  me  to 
believe  that  the  fellow  who  was  here  asking  ques- 
tions yesterday  is  one  of  a  gang  hired  by  the  high- 
binders to  recover  Moon  Ying.  They  are  much  more 
dangerous  than  Little  John,  but  if  we  don't  give 
them  a  chance  they  won't  hurt  us." 

Moon  Ying  had  followed  our  conversation  with 
eager  attention ;  and  though  many  of  the  words  were 
beyond  her  understanding,  she  had  caught  the  mean- 
ing of  what  we  said. 

"Too  bad — too  velly  bad,"  she  said,  with  sudden 
resolution  evident  in  her  face.  "Bad  man  come, 
makee  you  'flaid,  maybe  shoot.  I  go  'way,  bad  man 
no  come." 

"Indeed    you    shan't    go    away,"    cried    Laura. 


234         THE    APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

"There's  no  place  on  earth  you  could  be  safe,  even  if 
we  did  let  you  go." 

"I  go  Big  Sam.  Him  velly  big  man.  No  bad  man 
catch-em  me  in  Big  Sam's  house.  No  bad  man 
catch-em  you  when  me  gone/' 

At  these  words,  Laura  impulsively  flung  her  arms 
about  Moon  Ying. 

"You  dear  creature!"  she  cried.  "Nobody  shall 
hurt  you  here — and  nobody  will  hurt  us,  either.  My 
uncle  can  protect  you  much  better  than  Big  Sam, 
and  Big  Sam  himself  has  said  so." 

Moon  Ying  tried  to  express  more  fully  her  fear 
that  her  presence  brought  danger  to  the  household, 
but  her  language  was  unequal  to  her  thought,  and 
Laura  and  Mercy  both  talked  at  once  to  assure  her 
that  they  feared  nothing,  and  would  refuse  to  give 
her  up,  even  though  all  the  tongs  of  Chinatown 
should  come  in  force  to  demand  her ;  so  Moon  Ying 
at  last  with  a  sigh  of  grateful  content  said : 

"I  likee  stay — I  likee  you."  And  Laura  on  one 
side,  and  Mercy  on  the  other,  twined  their  arms 
about  her  with  a  laugh  that  was  almost  a  sob. 

It  was  a  pretty  picture  of  the  sisterhood  of  Occi- 
dent and  Orient,  and  I  admired  it,  with  something 
of  the  feminine  emotions  raising  a  lump  in  my 
throat,  when  I  was  observed  by  the  lady  of  the  house. 

"Go  away,"  she  said.  "This  is  no  place  for  men." 
And  in  spite  of  my  remonstrance  that  I  was  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  my  surroundings,  I  was  driven 
forth,  and  went  down-stairs  to  find  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  taking  a  Sunday  afternoon  nap  in  his  den. 


A    MAN    OF   ACTION  235 

He  gave  me  a  sleepy  greeting,  but  roused  himself 
to  attention  at  my  account  of  the  Nob  Hill  meeting, 
the  midnight  session  of  the  Council  of  Nine,  the 
morning  meeting  in  Bolton's  office,  and  the  warning 
from  Big  Sam. 

"Hm-m!  Well,  put  on  enough  watchmen  to  see 
that  we  don't  wake  up  to  find  our  throats  cut,"  he 
said.  "I  dare  say  P.  Bolton  is  egging  them  on  all 
around  to  do  something  for  their  money.  But  so  far 
as  the  business  goes,  I  think  I've  got  everything 
shipshape  and  ready  for  storm.  The  syndicate  is 
strong  enough  to  protect  the  market,  and  the  police 
can  handle  the  Cheap  John  revolution,  and  I  don't 
believe  anybody  is  going  to  attack  the  house;  so 
there's  nothing  to  worry  about.  But  you'd  better 
keep  in  touch  with  your  anarchist  friends  a  little 
closer  than  you've  been  doing.  If  we  can  get  warn- 
ing over  night  of  any  particular  deviltry  they  are 
going  to  start,  it  might  be  worth  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  Hallo!  what's  this?"  he  cried  as  a  servant 
brought  him  a  card.  "Show  him  in."  And  before  I 
could  escape,  General  Wilson  bustled  through  the 
door,  his  ruddy  face  aglow  in  the  frame  of  his  bris- 
tling yellow-gray  side-whiskers,  and  his  short  stou:. 
frame  radiating  energy  at  every  step. 

"Why,  God  bless  my  soul !  Kendrick — Hampden 
— I  find  you  with  your  heads  together  like  a  pair  of 
conspirators  in  the  theater.  Hope  I  don't  interrupt. 
It  does  me  good,  Hampden,  to  see  you  youngsters 
pulling  along  in  double  harness  with  the  war-horses 
like  Kendrick  and  me ;  and  you  can't  find  a  better  one 


236         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

to  pull  with  than  Kendrick;  he's  the  salt  of  the 
earth." 

I  professed  myself  glad  to  see  the  general,  and 
Wharton  Kendrick  greeted  him  jovially. 

"I  don't  believe  in  doing  business  on  Sunday," 
said  General  Wilson.  "In  fact,  I  lost  a  million-dollar 
trade  with  Jim  Fisk  once,  because  I  wouldn't  sign 
the  contract  on  the  Sabbath,  and  on  Monday  Jim 
was  chasing  after  something  else.  But  I  thought 
you'd  like  to  know  that  I  got  a  telegram  from  my 
people  about  that  swamp-land  deal.  Here  it  is,  and 
you  see  they'll  come  up  to  that  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand dollar  offer.  That's  the  limit,  and  it  won't  last 
long  at  that.  I  don't  like  to  boast,  Kendrick,  but  I'll 
tell  you  that  there  isn't  another  man  on  the  footstool 
that  could  have  got  'em  up  to  that  point — I'm  the 
only  one  that  could  do  it;  and,  by  George,  I'm  as- 
tonished at  my  own  success,  the  way  things  are  look- 
ing in  the  East  with  those  confounded  railroad 
strikes  and  rumors  of  riot.  Now,  I  want  you  to  un- 
derstand that  I'm  not  asking  you  to  take  up  with  the 
offer  to-day,  for  of  course  you  remember  the  Sab- 
bath just  as  I  do.  But  you  can  have  a  good  chance 
to  think  it  over.  You  know  well  enough  that  you're 
going  to  take  the  offer,  so  I'll  warn  you  that  I'll  drop 
around  in  the  morning  and  get  your  acceptance." 

"Hold  on,  hold  on,  Wilson.  You're  running  as 
wild  as  a  mustang  colt.  I'm  not  so  sure  about  this 
thing.  I've  got  to  have  more  time  to  consider  it.  I 
said  I'd  let  you  have  the  land  for  eight  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand,  but  I  believe  I'm  a  fool  to  let  it  go 


A    MAN    OF   ACTION  237 

for  any  such  figure.  However,  I'll  let  it  stand  for  a 
couple  of  days.  I've  got  some  affairs  booked  for  to- 
morrow that  will  take  all  my  time.  But  if  you'll 
come  in  on  Tuesday  with  your  eight  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  you  can  have  the  land.  After  that  it'll 
cost  you  more." 

"Kendrick,  I'll  wait  another  day  for  you,  if  I  have 
to  telegraph  that  I've  broken  a  leg.  Business,  sir,  is, 
next  to  war,  man's  most  important  pursuit ;  but  even 
business  must  give  way  to  the  call  of  friendship. 
You'll  see  me  coming  into  your  office  on  Tuesday 
morning,  Kendrick,  like  a  conquering  hero,  ready  to 
receive  your  sword — or  your  pen,  which  is  mightier 
yet — but  at  eight  hundred  thousand,  mind  you." 

"Come,  come,  Wilson,  you're  getting  ahead  of 
your  horses,"  said  Kendrick  with  a  laugh.  "I'm 
thinking  of  getting  up  a  company  to  reclaim  those 
lands,  and  if  I  conclude  to  do  it,  I  won't  sell  for 
double  the  money." 

"Talk  as  long  as  you  like,  Kendrick ;  but  I've  got 
a  sixth  sense  that  tells  me  when  a  bargain's  made, 
and  it  never  fails  me.  I  can  tell,  nine  times  out  of 
ten,  when  the  other  fellow  has  concluded  to  take  my 
figures  before  he  knows  it  himself,  and  that  gift  has 
saved  me  a  pretty  penny  more  than  once.  Why, 
when  the  Ohio  Midland  was  enlarging  its  Chicago 
terminal,  there  was  one  piece  we  had  to  have — but 
the  story's  too  long  to  tell.  However,  I  made  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  the  best  of  the  bargain  by 
knowing  what  the  other  fellow  was  going  to  do  be- 
fore he  knew  it  himself." 


238         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Wharton  Kendrick  gave  a  hearty  laugh  at  General 
Wilson's  diplomacy. 

"Well,  I  shall  take  warning  by  that  and  hold  out 
for  my  hundred  thousand — or,  I  should  say,  fifty 
thousand,  as  I've  given  you  a  price." 

"You're  getting  your  extra  hundred  thousand 
with  the  price  I'm  offering  you,"  said  the  general 
testily,  "and  I  know  well  enough  you'll  not  be  fool 
enough  to  refuse  it,  especially  after  such  a  row  as 
you  had  on  Nob  Hill  last  night.  I  hope  my  New 
York  clients  don't  hear  of  it,  or  everything  will  be 
off.  I  was  there,  sir,  and  of  all  the  howling  mobs  I 
ever  saw,  this  beat  anything  since  the  draft  riots. 
Why,  sir,  that  blatant  beast,  Kearney,  shouted  arson 
and  manslaughter,  and  another  fellow  called  for  the 
overturn  of  society,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  po- 
lice, I  believe  they  would  have  worked  up  the  crowd 
to  the  point  of  blood-letting."  Then  General  Wilson 
went  at  such  length  into  the  proper  methods  of  han- 
dling mobs  that  I  seized  upon  a  favorable  moment  to 
slip  out  the  door. 

As  I  left  the  boom-boom  of  General  Wilson's 
voice  behind  me,  I  caught  sight  of  Mercy  Fillmore's 
perplexed  and  anxious  face. 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  had  gone,"  she  said,  "but  I'm 
glad  you  haven't,  for  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your 
thoughtful  note  of  last  night.  And  now  Mr.  Parks 
has  sent  me  word  that  he  is  too  busy  to  come  up  this 
afternoon,  and  I  was  wondering  how  I  could  get  a 
few  lines  to  him.  I  am  so  afraid  he  is  planning  some- 
thing very  reckless — something  that  will  get  him 


A    MAN    OF   ACTION  239 

into  trouble.  If  I  did  not  fear  that  he  would  be 
angry,  I  should  go  down  and  speak  to  him  myself." 

"If  that  is  all  that's  worrying  you,  I'll  see  that 
he  gets  your  letter — that  is,  if  you  can  give  me  any 
idea  where  he  is  to  be  found." 

"He  wrote  that  he  should  be  detained  all  the  after- 
noon at  Mr.  Blasius'  place,  with  some  very  important 
committee  meetings."  The  idea  of  Mercy's  seeking 
Parks  in  the  House  of  Blazes  struck  me  as  slightly 
amusing,  but  I  forebore  to  enlighten  her  as  to  the 
social  position  of  H.  Blasius,  and  she  continued: 
"Now  if  you  know  where  that  is,  you  might  send 
one  of  your  men  down  there  with  this  note."  And 
she  handed  me  an  envelope  addressed  to  "Mr.  Ger- 
ald Parks."  "You  are  sure  it  is  not  asking  too  much 
of  you  ?  I  hope  you  are  enough  interested  in  him  to 
wish  to  keep  him  from  trouble." 

I  assured  her  that  I  was  glad  to  be  of  service,  and 
she  thanked  me  with  a  dash  of  color  in  her  pale  face, 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MISCHIEF   AFOOT 

My  first  thought  in  accepting  Mercy  Fillmore's 
commission  had  been  to  intrust  her  letter  to  one  of 
my  men.  But  once  outside  the  house,  it  dawned  upon 
me  that  I  held  in  my  hand  a  provident  excuse  to  seek 
the  conspirators  in  their  lair.  The  hint  by  which 
Parks  had  roused  such  enviable  anxiety  corroborated 
the  information  I  had  received  from  my  spy  service. 
The  campaign  of  action  was  evidently  at  hand,  and 
I  might  possibly  learn  from  a  personal  visit  what  I 
could  not  learn  through  others — provided  I  could 
pass  unchallenged  through  the  doors  of  the  House  of 
Blazes.  The  letter  I  held  was  a  card  of  admission 
certain  to  be  honored,  if  Parks  were  there.  For  the 
rest,  chance  must  serve  to  expose  or  to  conceal  the 
plans  that  were  keeping  the  agitators'  committees  in 
prolonged  session. 

H.  Blasius  received  me  with  reserve  born  of  sus- 
picion, and  his  bleary  eyes  searched  my  face  coldly 
at  my  name  and  my  demand  for  Parks. 

"Meestaire  Park?  Why  do  you  want  him?"  he 
inquired  at  last. 

"I  have  a  very  important  message  for  him,"  I  re- 
plied. 

240 


MISCHIEF    AFOOT  241 

"Gif  to  me  ze  message,"  said  Blasius.  "When 
Meestaire  Park  he  come,  he  shall  have  it." 

"I  couldn't  give  it  to  you,"  I  said.  "I  am  to  de- 
liver it  into  his  hands  only.  And  I  can  tell  you  that 
he  will  be  very  angry  if  there's  any  delay  about  it." 

H.  Blasius'  pasty  face  took  on  an  expression  of 
dismay  at  the  thought  of  an  angry  Parks,  and  with 
a  grumbling  of  French  interjections  that  suggested 
the  cracking  of  his  ill-regulated  internal  machinery, 
he  waddled  to  a  doorway  at  the  end  of  the  bar,  and 
disappeared  up  a  box  stairway. 

I  looked  around  the  saloon  at  the  dozen  or  more 
men  who  lounged  about  in  varying  degrees  of  alco- 
holic stupefaction,  and  had  just  noted  a  group  of 
men  half  concealed  at  a  table  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  L  of  the  room,  when  a  rapid  step  descended  the 
stairs,  and  Parks  appeared. 

"Hampden !"  he  cried,  shaking  my  hand.  "What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  It  is  a  surprise  to  see  you  here." 

"If  I  need  an  apology  for  intruding,  here  is  a  good 
one."  And  I  held  out  Mercy's  letter. 

Parks  seized  it  with  a  start  of  emotion  as  he  rec- 
ognized the  handwriting,  looked  about  with  apparent 
thought  of  the  profanation  of  reading  Mercy's  words 
in  that  place,  and  then  giving  me  a  nod  to  follow 
him,  strode  to  a  secluded  table  and  opened  the  letter. 
His  face  lost  something  of  its  aggressive  resolution 
as  he  read  and  re-read  the  pages. 

"Hampden,"  he  said  in  a  softened  voice,  "did  you 
ever  realize  that  the  sympathies  of  women  are  indi- 
vidual and  concrete?  The  welfare  of  the  masses  is 


242         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

but  a  shadow  to  them,  except  as  they  see  it  through 
some  one  they  know  and  care  for.  Here  my  petty 
personal  welfare  is  put  before  the  interests  of  the 
whole  people!"  And  he  laid  a  monitory  finger  on 
the  letter.  "I  am  asked  to  give  up  an  enterprise  of 
the  greatest  moment  lest  I  shall  get  my  head  cracked 
or  be  thrown  into  prison." 

"Would  you  have  her  think  otherwise  ?" 

He  looked  at  the  letter  without  answering.  Then 
he  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  gave  his  head  a  shake, 
and  his  face  was  once  more  dominated  by  the  ag- 
gressive spirit  of  the  agitator. 

"I  don't  deny  it  is  pleasant  to  be  considered  worth 
a  moment  of  anxiety;  but  it  is  weakening  to  the 
resolution.  It  is  something  that  must  have  no  part 
in  my  life." 

"Good  heavens,  Parks!  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you  would  give  up  the  chance  to  get  a  girl  like 
Mercy  Fillmore,  just  for  the  sake  of  making  speeches 
about — "  It  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  say 
"the  riffraff,"  but  in  deference  to  the  prejudices  of 
my  listener,  I  ended  weakly  with  " — people  who 
don't  care  a  snap  of  their  fingers  for  you?" 

Parks  was  silent  for  some  seconds,  and  he  studied 
the  table  with  a  far-away  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Do  you  think  I  have  a  chance?"  he  asked. 

"Great  Scott,  man,  how  much  encouragement  do 
you  want?  Why,  if  a  young  lady  I  could  name — 
and  won't — showed  half  as  much  interest  in  my  per- 
sonal safety  as  this  girl  is  showing  in  yours,  I'd  be 
down  on  my  knees  at  once." 


Five  or  six  men  sat  around  a  table  Page 


MISCHIEF   AFOOT  243 

He  looked  in  my  eyes,  with  something  of  frank 
boyishness,  for  the  first  time,  showing  under  the 
enthusiast  and  dreamer. 

"I  don't  mind  confessing  to  you,  Hampden,  that 
I've  been  in  love  with  that  girl  ever  since  we  were 
school  children  together.  But  I  think  you  overesti- 
mate her  interest  in  me.  She  is  a  very  sympathetic 
person,  and — "  He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but 
gave  his  hand  a  wave  that  made  her  anxieties  in- 
clude the  entire  circle  of  her  acquaintance.  "It  was 
her  work  among  the  suffering  poor  that  led  me  to 
the  studies  that  have  shown  me  the  rights  of  man 
and  the  wrongs  of  society.  But,  I  have  resolved, 
Hampden,  before  I  say  a  word,  to  accomplish  some- 
thing— to  make  myself  known — to  strike  a  blow  for 
the  regeneration  of  mankind  that  shall  make  the  na- 
tions ring." 

His  voice  had  risen  in  the  oratorical  fervor  of  his 
last  sentence,  until  it  attracted  attention  from  the 
group  at  the  lower  end  of  the  room,  and  a  chorus  of 
voices  called  "Parks !  Parks !" 

"Here!"  responded  Parks.  "What's  wanted?" 
And  rising,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  that  summoned 
me  to  follow  him,  he  strode  to  the  farther  end  of  the 
L  where  a  group  of  five  or  six  men  sat  around  a 
table. 

Dominating  the  group,  I  recognized  Denis  Kear- 
ney, talking  with  grandiose  bonhomie  to  his  com- 
panions. There  was  a  self-satisfied  look  on  his 
face,  and  something  of  arrogance  was  added  to  his 
bearing.  A  brief  experience  of  public  applause  had 


244         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

banished  the  simplicity  from  his  countenance,  and  in 
its  place  had  come  the  indefinable  lines  of  calcula- 
tion, ambition  and  authority.  He  was  leaning  back 
in  his  tilted  chair,  but  came  to  his  feet  as  we  ap- 
proached. He  shook  hands  warmly  with  Parks,  and 
remembered  me  as  though  he  were  conferring  a  favor. 

"I've  shaken  thousands  of  hands  this  day,"  he  said 
as  he  gave  me  a  grip.  "It's  harder  worrk  than  heft- 
ing barrels,  but  it's  worrk  in  a  good  cause.  We'll 
drive  the  haythins  into  the  say  in  a  month." 

Parks  introduced  me  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  to 
the  men  about  the  table,  and  Kearney  continued : 

"Well,  we'd  better  be  thinkin'  of  the  program  for 
to-morrow  night,  and  how  to  get  our  tarriers  out. 
I've  got  something  to  say  about  the  police  interfer- 
in'  with  our  meeting  last  night  that  ought  to  raise 
the  timperature  about  forty  degrees." 

"I've  been  thinking  about  the  speeches,"  said 
Parks,  "and  I've  concluded  it's  time  to  swing  'em 
round." 

"Swing  'em  round  to  what?"  demanded  a  tall 
man  with  a  black  mustache,  who  had  been  intro- 
duced to  me  as  Enos. 

"The  overthrow  of  capitalism,"  responded  Parks, 
his  face  aglow.  "The  Chinese  cry  is  a  good  thing  to 
rouse  'em  with,  but  the  Chinese  question  is  only  a 
little  corner  of  the  real  issue  before  the  people.  Capi- 
talism, plutocracy — these  must  be  put  down  before 
the  people  can  come  to  their  rights,  and  it's  time  we 
told  'em  so." 

There  was  a  minute  of  silence,  and  the  agitators 


MISCHIEF    AFOOT  245 

looked  about  the  table  as  if  each  sought  to  read  the 
others'  thoughts. 

"That's  all  well  enough,  Parks,"  said  Kearney  at 
last,  "but  we've  tried  'em  on  that,  an'  it's  no  go. 
Whin  I  tell  'em  the  haythin  is  taking  the  bread  out 
of  their  mouths  and  ivery  pigtail  ought  to  be  driven 
into  the  say,  they  holler  till  I  can't  hear  me  own 
voice.  But  whin  I  tell  thim  that  society  has  got  to 
be  reorganized,  an'  that  times  will  niver  be  right  till 
the  collective  capital  of  the  nation  is  administhered 
by  the  nation's  ripresintatives — those  are  the  worrds, 
aren't  they,  Parks  ? — they  shake  their  heads  and  say, 
'What  th'  divil  is  he  dhrivin'  at  ?'  I  can  git  five  thou- 
sand men  to  follow  me  to  Chinatown  to-night  to 
burn  the  haythin  out  if  I  but  say  th'  worrd,  but  I 
couldn't  git  fifty  to  follow  me  to  the  City  Hall  to 
turn  th'  mayor  out." 

The  others  nodded  assent  to  Kearney's  words ;  but 
Parks'  face  had  been  growing  blacker  and  blacker, 
and  now  he  broke  forth  impetuously : 

"By  heavens!  If  they  don't  see  their  own  inter- 
ests, they  must  be  made  to  see  them.  What  are  our 
tongues  given  us  for  but  to  tell  them  of  the  things 
they  can't  see  for  themselves  ?  The  wrong,  degrada- 
tion and  poverty  we  see  about  us  are  no  more  due 
to  the  petty  evils  of  Chinese  competition  than  to  the 
wearing  of  machine-made  shoes.  They  are  due  to 
the  control  of  industry  by  capital — to  the  system  that 
puts  a  thousand  men  to  work  for  the  benefit  of  one 
man  instead  of  for  the  benefit  of  all  men.  The  Chi- 
nese now  do  injure  the  white  man.  But  you  put  the 


246          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

capital  and  labor  of  the  nation  under  control  of  the 
nation's  representatives,  and  the  labor  of  the  Chinese 
would  injure  nobody — would  help  instead  of  hurt. 
The  more  the  Chinaman  produced,  the  more  there 
would  be  to  divide,  and  the  less  the  Chinaman  lived 
on,  the  more  there  would  be  for  the  rest  of  us.  We 
must  make  capital  the  servant,  not  the  master,  of 
mankind.  Wipe  out  the  old  system!  Bring  in  the 
new !"  Parks  had  grown  more  and  more  excited  as 
he  talked,  and  his  hair  stood  out  aggressively  from 
the  emphatic  nods  with  which  he  had  pointed  his 
declamation. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  want  us  to  start  a  rebel- 
lion ?"  growled  Enos. 

"Successful  rebellions  are  revolutions,"  cried 
Parks,  "and  it  is  a  revolution  that  society  demands." 

"Well,  society  isn't  demanding  it  out  loud,"  said 
Kearney. 

"We  must  work  through  the  ballot-box,"  said 
Enos,  "we  must  keep  within  the  law." 

At  this  word  there  was  a  harsh  croak  behind  me, 
and  I  turned  to  see  the  white  pasty  face  of  H.  Blasius 
gloating  over  us,  his  fat  forefinger  pointed  at  Enos. 

"Law!"  he  cried.  "It  is  ze  superstition  of  poli- 
tique  imposed  on  us  by  ze  capitalist,  as  ze  supersti- 
tion of  moral  is  imposed  on  us  by  ze  priest.  When 
we  say  Non — no  more  for  us — zen  it  is  gone — we 
are  free.  Let  us  say  Pouf!  away !  we  make  laws  to 
suit  ourself.  Eh,  mes  braves?" 

"Pooh !"  said  Enos.  "You're  talking  nonsense." 

"Nonsense?    Poltron!"    answered    Blasius    with 


MISCHIEF   AFOOT  247 

contempt.  "It  take  but  a  few  barricade  and  two  t'ree 
t'ousand  men  to  defend  zem,  and — bourn!  We  have 
ze  city.  I  was  of  ze  Commune,  and  I  tell  you  so. 
And  instead  of  Marchons,  you  say  Nonsense.  Eh-h, 
cowarrd !" 

Enos  jumped  to  his  feet,  his  dark  face  flushing 
angrily.  His  fists  were  doubled,  and  if  Blasius  had 
been  a  younger  man,  I  should  have  witnessed  the 
beginning  of  civil  war  in  the  camp  of  the  agitators. 
But  Enos  held  his  arm  before  the  gray  hairs  of  the 
ex-Communard,  and  before  the  quarrel  could  be 
warmed  by  further  words,  there  was  an  interruption 
that  turned  all  thoughts  from  private  disputes.  A 
man  burst  through  the  swinging  doors  of  the  saloon 
and  ran  down  to  our  table. 

"Waldorf!"  cried  Parks. 

I  looked  with  interest  at  this  leader  of  the  Council 
of  Nine — a  tall,  large- faced  man,  whose  square  jaw, 
spare  cheeks,  and  bulging  brows  gave  promise  of 
force. 

"It  has  come !"  he  cried. 

"What?"  cried  Parks,  springing  to  his  feet.  "The 
word  from  the  brethren  ?" 

"Just  as  good,"  said  Waldorf,  waving  a  newspa- 
per excitedly  before  the  group.  "See  this!"  And  as 
he  unfolded  the  sheet  we  could  see  the  printed 
announcement  of  an  extra  edition. 

Parks  seized  the  paper,  and  cried  out  the  head- 
lines : 

"Riot  and  Bloodshed — Pittsburgh  in  Flames — 
Railroad  Shops  Wrecked  by  a  Furious  Mob — 


248         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Troops  Cooped  up  in  the  Roundhouse  and  Compelled 
to  Surrender!  Fighting  in  Baltimore.  Mob  Law 
Rules  a  Dozen  Cities." 

The  men  about  the  table  looked  at  one  another  in 
silence,  and  the  pallor  of  fear  or  excitement  spread 
upon  their  faces. 

"That's  the  signal,"  said  Waldorf.  "I  wish  we 
were  better  prepared." 

"Prepare' !"  cried  Blasius  scornfully.  "We  need 
no  more.  We  have  arrms.  We  can  make  ze  barri- 
cade. We  have  leaders — plans.  All  we  need  is  ze 
brave  heart,  and — bourn! — we  arre  ze  government!" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Kearney  un- 
easily. I  saw  that  he  was  not  in  the  full  confidence  of 
the  Council  of  Nine,  and  was  disturbed  at  this 
glimpse  of  its  plans. 

"Here's  what  we  are  going  to  do,"  said  Parks, 
who  had  resumed  his  seat  and  scribbled  a  few  words 
on  a  sheet  of  paper.  "This  news  settles  the  plans  for 
to-morrow  night's  meeting,  and  this  is  the  way  we'll 
call  it."  And  he  read  out  his  composition  with 
f  ervor : 

NOTICE  OF  MEETING 

The  working-men  and  women  of  San  Francisco  will  meet  en 
masse  this  (Monday)  evening,  at  7:30,  on  the  City  Hall  lots, 
to  express  their  sympathy  and  take  other  action  in  regard  to 
their  fellow  workmen  at  Pittsburgh  and  Baltimore.  Promi- 
nent speakers  will  address  the  meeting.  By  order  of 

COMMITTEE. 

"Hm-m!"   said   Kearney,   with  no   evidence   of 


MISCHIEF   AFOOT  249 

enthusiasm  in  his  tone.  "That'll  bring  'em  out,  I 
suppose." 

"Just  the  thing!"  said  Waldorf,  with  warm  ap- 
preciation of  his  colleague's  work.  "It  should  call 
out  every  man  and  woman  who  is  in  sympathy  with 
the  oppressed  toilers.  'To  express  sympathy  and 
take  other  action  in  regard  to  their  fellow  work- 
men.' That's  well  put,  Parks." 

"What  other  action  are  you  going  to  take?"  asked 
Enos  suspiciously. 

"Come  to  the  meeting  and  see,"  said  Parks. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ON   THE   SAND-LOTS 

City  Hall  Avenue  and  the  vacant  lots  below  it 
bustled  with  the  activity  of  an  arriving  circus.  Two 
bonfires  blazing  fiercely  sent  the  crackling  sparks  fly- 
ing skyward,  and  cast  so  warm  a  glow  on  the  faces 
of  those  who  approached  them,  that  even  the  small 
boys,  who  dared  one  another  to  feed  the  flames, 
shielded  their  eyes  with  uplifted  arm,  and  made  their 
bows  before  the  altar  of  the  God  of  Fire  in  reverse 
of  the  customary  attitude  of  respect. 

A  wooden  platform  had  been  erected  near  the 
lower  end  of  the  triangle  of  vacant  lots,  and  a  row 
of  gasoline  torches  blazed  about  it.  Groups  of  men 
were  gathered  here  and  there  about  the  sandy  space, 
listening  to  impromptu  orators  arguing  in  dissonant 
chorus  over  the  significance  of  the  eastern  riots,  or 
denouncing  the  Chinese  as  the  source  of  all  indus- 
trial and  social  woes. 

The  groups  were  in  a  state  of  flux,  swelling  where 
the  voices  rose  loudest,  and  melting  away  where  the 
discussion  sank  to  a  conversational  monotone.  But 
the  most  active  elements  of  the  crowd  were  the  bands 
of  young  men,  hardly  more  than  boys,  who  formed 
into  gangs  of  ten  to  twenty,  and  roughly  pushed  and 
jostled  their  way  through  the  crowd  with  cries  that 

250 


ON    THE    SAND-LOTS  251 

indicated  their  disesteem  for  the  Chinese,  their  re- 
gard for  Kearney  and  for  the  Pittsburgh  rioters,  and 
their  especial  disapproval  of  the  police. 

Behind  the  bonfires  and  torches,  the  dark  groups 
and  eddying  streams  of  men,  rose  the  half-built  New 
City  Hall.  Touched  here  and  there  with  the  red 
glow  of  the  bonfires  in  front,  and  framed  in  sil- 
houette by  the  dying  shimmer  of  the  sunset  behind, 
it  looked  like  some  ancient,  majestic  ruin — far  differ- 
ent in  outline  from  the  ruin  it  was  to  become,  when 
thirty  years  later  it  was  racked  by  earthquake,  and 
swept  by  a  mighty  conflagration — yet  one  that  fur- 
nished a  striking  background  for  the  turbulent  scene 
enacted  before  it. 

As  I  entered  the  crowded  space  from  the  Market 
Street  side,  I  had  noted  these  details  before  I  discov- 
ered Parks  standing  by  the  platform  and  glancing 
impatiently  about  him. 

"Hampden,"  he  cried,  "I  am  glad  to  see  that  you 
have  joined  this  great  outpouring  of  the  people.  You 
shall  have  a  seat  with  me  on  the  platform." 

"I  wouldn't  miss  the  fun  for  fifteen  cents.  But 
what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  What's  your  plan  ?" 

"We  shall  follow  the  wishes  of  our  fellow-citi- 
zens," said  Parks,  with  a  nod  of  mystery,  importing 
designs  that  could  not  be  revealed  until  the  moment 
of  execution.  "But  the  first  thing  is  to  have  the 
speeches  delivered,  and  we  are  away  behind  time. 
The  meeting  ought  to  have  been  called  to  order 
twenty  minutes  ago,  but  the  procession  is  late,  of 
course.  I  never  knew  one  that  wasn't."  And  he 


252         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

looked  irritably  into  Market  Street,  and  made  some 
unfavorable  comments  on  the  marshals  of  the  parade. 

"Here  it  comes  now !"  exclaimed  another  member 
of  the  group,  as  a  blare  of  horns,  the  thump  of  a 
drum  and  a  confused  sound  of  cheering  disturbed 
the  air. 

The  procession  soon  came  into  sight  as  it 
advanced  up  Market  Street  and  turned  into  the 
sand-lots.  At  its  head  marched  a  brass  band,  and 
scattered  here  and  there  in  the  trailing  line  were  a 
few  hundred  torches — spoil  from  the  election  cam- 
paign of  the  preceding  year.  While  the  attention  of 
all  was  fixed  on  the  manoeuvers  of  the  marching 
clubs,  I  felt  my  sleeve  plucked,  and  turned  to  find 
Clark  beside  me.  Without  looking  at  me  he  slipped 
a  piece  of  paper  into  my  hand,  and  moved  away.  I 
held  the  paper  under  one  of  the  gasoline  torches,  and 
read: 

Some  mischief  ahead.  Jim  Morgan  has  been  hiring  men. 
Had  20  or  30  young  fellows  cooped  up  near  hdqrs.  this  p.  m. 
They  are  marching  up  with  the  clubs. 

I  puzzled  for  a  little  over  the  particular  variety  of 
mischief  that  was  imported  by  this  activity  of  Bol- 
ton's  agent,  and  then  stepping  behind  Clark,  said : 

"Keep  as  close  to  the  gang  as  you  can.  If  you  find 
out  what  they  are  up  to,  bring  me  word  at  once.  I'll 
be  on  the  platform  here." 

Without  appearing  to  notice  me,  Clark  gave  a 
signal  that  he  understood,  and  as  he  moved  away 
Parks  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder. 


ON   THE    SAND-LOTS  253 

"Here!  We  must  start  this  thing  now,"  he  said. 
"We're  over  half  an  hour  late.  Come  up  on  the  plat- 
form. Where  in  the  name  of  Halifax  can  Kearney 
be  ?  He  hasn't  come  up  with  the  clubs,  and  he  hasn't 
sent  any  word." 

I  suggested  the  theory  of  sickness. 

"He's  sick  of  the  job— that's  my  opinion,"  said 
Parks  savagely.  "He's  full  of  fighting  talk  when 
there's  no  trouble  in  sight,  but  when  there's  a  chance 
to  strike  a  blow  for  the  people,  he's  for  hanging  back. 
He  hasn't  had  any  ginger  in  his  talk  about  this  meet- 
ing. You  heard  him  last  night.  He  was  about  as 
warm  as  a  fish  then,  and  his  pulse  has  been  going 
down  ever  since.  Well,  we  can't  wait  any  longer,  so 
here  goes."  And  pushing  to  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form, he  pounded  on  an  improvised  desk  and  called 
for  order. 

It  was  by  the  eye  rather  than  by  the  ear  that  he 
caught  the  attention  of  the  throng,  for  in  the  babel 
of  amateur  oratory  that  filled  the  square,  his  voice 
was  lost.  But  at  his  appeals,  silence  spread  in  con- 
centric rings  about  the  platform,  until  the  arguing 
groups  melted  into  the  mass  of  humanity  that  pressed 
toward  the  speakers'  stand. 

I  paid  but  perfunctory  attention  to  the  speeches. 
Under  Parks'  guidance  a  man  named  D'Arcy  was 
chosen  chairman  of  the  meeting,  and  speaker  vied 
with  speaker  in  expressing  sympathy  with  their 
brave  brethren  of  Pittsburgh,  in  declaring  admira- 
tion for  the  courage  with  which  they  had  beaten 
down  the  hireling  soldiery  of  the  brutalized  money 


254         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

lords,  in  denouncing  the  policy  that  had  called  out 
the  troops  to  settle  a  mere  business  dispute  between 
workmen  and  employers,  in  bewailing  the  hard  lot 
of  the  workmen  of  San  Francisco,  and  in  assailing 
the  Chinese  as  the  cause  of  the  local  industrial  woes. 
It  was  not  the  inflammatory  speeches  that  drew  the 
major  part  of  my  attention,  nor  even  the  riotous  ap- 
plause that  followed  those  speakers  who  expressed 
their  approval  of  violence  as  a  cure  for  low  wages  or 
no  wages.  Some  subtle  sense  of  divination  drew  my 
eyes  and  thoughts  to  certain  currents  and  eddies  in 
the  crowd,  where  lines  of  men  appeared  to  move  with 
common  purpose  through  the  great  gathering.  The 
lines  would  grow  in  length  as  they  proceeded,  then 
would  swirl  into  a  group,  and  break  or  unfold  into 
two  or  three  new  lines  that  would  push  out  in  dif- 
ferent directions  to  form  new  centers  of  excitement. 
Some  plan  of  action  was  evidently  preparing. 

In  the  midst  of  a  speaker's  appeal  to  the  sacred 
rights  of  labor  against  the  wrongs  of  coolie  immi- 
gration, a  man  swung  himself  over  the  back  rail  of 
the  platform  and  whispered  to  Parks. 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Parks  incredulously. 

The  man  repeated  his  statement. 

"When  did  it  happen?" 

"About  seven  o'clock." 

Parks'  face  grew  black  with  suppressed  storm, 
and  the  man  continued : 

"He  said  you  could  rouse  the  town  about  it  if 
you  thought  best,  but  for  himself  he  didn't  want  the 
course  of  the  law  interfered  with." 


ON   THE    SAND-LOTS  255 

"What  do  you  think,  Hampden?"  said  Parks,  in 
my  ear.  "Kearney's  arrested !" 

"What's  he  been  doing  now  ?" 

"Oh,  it's  his  Nob  Hill  speech.  He  threatened  to 
hang  Stanford  and  Crocker,  you  know;  and  they've 
jailed  him  for  that." 

"Well,"  I  said  cheerfully,  "are  you  going  to  fol- 
low your  example  by  leading  the  mob  to  rescue 
him?" 

"I'd  take  five  thousand  men  down  to  the  City 
Prison  and  have  him  out  in  half  an  hour,  if  I  was 
sure  he  hadn't  contrived  this  arrest  himself,"  replied 
Parks  darkly. 

"What  put  that  into  your  head?"  I  asked  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Parks  with  an  angry  shake  of 
his  head.  "I've  a  right  to  my  suspicions."  Then 
he  turned  to  his  messenger  and  growled:  "Don't 
say  anything  about  this.  I'll  announce  it  later  if  it 
seems  best.  I'll  have  to  think  it  over  a  little.  I'll  wait 
till  Reddick  has  spoken,  anyhow." 

Reddick,  as  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Council  of  Nine, 
gave  a  speech  filled  with  denunciations  of  social  and 
industrial  conditions,  and  with  the  roars  of  applause 
that  he  evoked,  the  currents  and  eddies  of  men  grew 
stronger.  As  he  drew  toward  the  close  of  his  ad- 
dress, I  felt  a  touch  from  behind,  and  turned  to  find 
Clark  beckoning  for  attention.  As  I  bent  to  him,  he 
whispered  in  my  ear : 

"Those  fellows  of  Morgan's  are  trying  to  stir  up 
a  rumpus.  They  are  going  through  the  crowd  now 


256         THE  APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

passing  the  word  that  it's  time  to  burn  out  the  rich 
fellows  that  have  brought  in  the  Chinese,  and  that 
the  place  to  begin  is  on  Van  Ness  Avenue,  and  finish 
with  Nob  Hill  and  Chinatown.  There's  going  to  be 
trouble  as  soon  as  the  meeting  breaks  up." 

This  alarming  information  revealed  Bolton's  pur- 
pose, whatever  might  be  the  plans  of  the  Council  of 
Nine,  and  though  the  meeting  seemed  likely  to  be 
prolonged  for  an  hour  or  two  more,  I  scribbled  a 
note  on  the  back  of  one  of  Wharton  Kendrick's  cards 
and  handed  it  to  Clark,  saying : 

"Get  down  to  the  Old  City  Hall,  see  Chief  Ellis,  or 
whoever  is  in  charge,  and  tell  him  that  Kendrick's 
place  is  to  be  attacked.  Ask  him  to  send  as  many 
men  as  he  can  spare  to  keep  the  avenue  clear.  That 
card  will  get  you  a  chance  to  speak  with  him,  and 
you  can  tell  him  what  the  gang  is  doing.  I  am  going 
up  to  Kendrick's  before  the  meeting  closes  and  get 
ready  for  trouble." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  sir,"  said  Clark,  with  evi- 
dent doubt  of  his  power  to  influence  so  important  a 
man  as  the  chief  of  police,  and  in  a  moment  had  dis- 
appeared into  McAllister  Street. 

While  I  had  been  engaged  with  Clark,  Reddick 
had  ended  his  speech  with  a  fiery  peroration  that 
brought  a  roar  of  applause,  during  which  a  stout, 
red-faced  man  climbed  to  the  platform  and  took  his 
place. 

"This  is  all  wrong,  men,"  were  the  first  words  I 
heard  from  the  new  speaker.  "We  can't  help  the 
cause  of  labor  by  getting  into  a  row  with  the  police. 


ON   THE   SAND-LOTS  257 

We  can't  get  more  wages  by  hunting  a  fight  with 
the  militia.  We  can't  even  get  a  better  job  by  punch- 
ing a  Chinaman's  head." 

"Who  the  devil  is  this?"  cried  Reddick  angrily. 
"He's  a  hell-hound  of  plutocracy.  Who  asked  him 
to  speak?" 

"Stop  him,  D'Arcy,"  said  Parks.  "He'll  be  a  wet 
blanket  on  the  meeting." 

So  far  from  being  a  wet  blanket,  the  speaker  had 
a  remarkably  enlivening  influence  on  the  crowd.  The 
elements  that  had  been  roused  to  enthusiasm  by 
fiery  speeches,  culminating  in  Reddick's  red-pepper 
harangue,  were  in  no  mood  to  listen  to  this  sort  of 
talk,  and  catcalls,  hoots  and  cries  of  dissent  drowned 
his  words. 

"This  agitation  don't  do  us  no  good,"  shouted  the 
volunteer  orator.  "It  hurts  us.  It  scares  away  capi- 
tal. I  lost  two  jobs  by  it  myself." 

"Sit  down !  Dry  up !  Get  off  the  platform !"  came 
in  volleys  from  the  audience,  and  the  chairman,  with 
a  pull  at  the  speaker's  coat  tails,  paraphrased  the  de- 
mand. 

"I  won't  sit  down !"  shouted  the  unknown.  "I'm 
an  American  citizen  and  as  good  as  any  of  you." 

"Throw  him  off!"  cried  Reddick;  and  suiting  ac- 
tion to  word,  he  seized  the  speaker  about  the  waist. 

The  unknown  resented  this  interference  by  whirl- 
ing about,  and  planting  a  blow  on  Reddick's  face 
that  sent  him  to  the  floor  with  a  thump.  But  the  mili- 
tant friend  of  order  was  seized  by  a  dozen  men  be- 
fore he  could  make  another  movement,  and  with  a 


258         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

struggle  was  hustled  to  the  side  of  the  platform  and 
dropped  over  the  rail. 

The  scene  of  violence  was  contagious.  During  the 
altercation  on  the  platform  the  signs  of  disorder  in 
the  crowd  had  multiplied,  and  at  the  sight  of  the 
blow  that  laid  Reddick  on  his  back,  a  mighty  roar 
rose  on  the  air,  and  the  whole  throng  appeared  to 
break  into  tumultuous  motion.  The  great  mass  was 
shaken  to  its  confines  with  a  sudden  blind  impulse 
of  conflict,  the  thousands  of  faces  tossed  and  eddied 
about  like  sea  waves  ruffled  by  cross-currents,  and  a 
surge  of  men  broke  against  the  platform. 

"Hold  on,"  shouted  Parks,  springing  to  the  front. 
"There's  four  more  speakers  to  be  heard,  and  the 
resolutions  to  be  passed."  But  in  the  uproar  his 
voice  was  overwhelmed,  and  in  a  moment  the  hood- 
lum mob  was  upon  us.  A  conflux  of  wolfish  faces 
centered  upon  the  platform,  and  with  cries  of  "Kill 
the  Chinese!  Down  with  the  coolie-lovers!"  they 
tore  at  the  supports.  The  platform  went  down  with 
a  crash  of  breaking  boards  and  screaming  men,  and 
the  flaming  gasoline  torches  that  lighted  the  stand 
fell  forward  with  the  uprights  to  which  they  were 
fastened,  only  to  be  raised  in  the  van  as  the  stan- 
dards of  the  hoodlum  mob. 

The  downfall  of  the  platform  sent  half  the  group 
sprawling  on  the  ground  among  its  ruins.  But  at 
the  first  warning  crack  I  had  seized  Parks  as  he  was 
about  to  be  pitched  forward  under  the  feet  of  the 
attacking  forces,  and  dragged  him  to  the  back  rail. 
This  frail  support  held  for  a  space  against  the 


ON    THE    SAND-LOTS  259 

wrench  of  the  falling  front,  and  offered  us  a  mo- 
ment's safety. 

"This  is  an  outrage!"  cried  Parks,  as  we  scram- 
bled to  the  ground.  "The  money  of  the  railroad  or 
the  Six  Companies  has  paid  for  this  assault  on  a 
peaceable  meeting.  But  I  am  not  going  to  be  si- 
lenced by  a  pack  of  hoodlums.  Come  up  to  the  City 
Hall  steps,  and  we  will  finish  our  speeches  and  pass 
our  resolutions." 

"Better  let  bad  enough  alone,"  I  said.  "You'd 
much  better  come  with  me  to  see  to  Miss  Fillmore's 
safety." 

But  Parks  had  not  waited  to  hear  the  end  of  my 
words,  and  was  already  on  his  way  to  the  Hall  of 
Records,  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "Follow 
me,  all  members  of  the  International  Clubs !"  while 
I  struggled  to  press  my  way  through  the  division  of 
the  mob  that  was  sweeping  up  Leavenworth  Street. 
As  I  reached  the  corner  I  heard  one  of  the  leaders 
shout : 

"Come  on,  youse  fellows!  We'll  burn  out  Mil- 
lionaire's Row  on  Van  Ness  Avenue.  They's  the 
ones  that  gets  rich  by  bringing  in  the  coolies !"  And 
his  suggestion  was  approved  with  a  roar. 

This  was,  I  could  no  longer  doubt,  a  part  of  the 
scheme  that  had  been  hatching  in  the  fertile  brain 
of  Peter  Bolton.  It  was  for  this  that  Jim  Morgan 
had  hired  and  trained  his  ruffians,  and  the  objective 
point  of  the  mob  in  front  of  me  was  the  home  of 
Wharton  Kendrick. 

It  was  of  this  that  my  sixth  sense  had  warned  me, 


260         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

even  before  Clark  had  spoken ;  and  yet  I  had  loitered 
in  the  belief  that  there  was  plenty  of  time  to  reach 
the  place  before  the  close  of  the  meeting  should  loose 
the  forces  of  disorder.  And  now,  with  a  sudden  gust 
of  passion  all  evil  things  had  thrown  away  restraint, 
the  mob  with  roars  of  rage  was  swarming  in  differ- 
ent directions,  smashing  doors  and  windows,  and 
shouting  its  war-cries  with  cheers  and  curses,  while 
I  was  still  by  the  City  Hall,  trying  to  force  past  the 
throng  that  streamed  up  Leavenworth  Street. 

I  had  got  as  far  as  Tyler  Street  (later  to  become 
famous  as  Golden  Gate  Avenue),  when  I  found  the 
way  blockaded.  The  crowd  had  halted,  packed  into 
a  dense  mass  about  the  corner,  and  shouts  and  yells, 
the  crash  of  breaking  wood  and  the  tinkle  of  falling 
glass  told  that  the  wild  beast  had  found  an  object 
on  which  to  vent  its  rage.  By  the  light  of  the  street- 
lamps  and  the  flare  of  the  torches  carried  by  the  mob, 
I  saw  that  the  point  of  attack  was  a  low,  wooden 
building,  and  a  painted  sign  above  the  door  told  that 
therein  Ah  Ging  did  washing  and  ironing. 

I  had  barely  discerned  so  much  when  the  sign  dis- 
appeared, and  a  moment  later  the  form  of  a  China- 
man was  framed  in  the  doorway  above  the  crowd, 
amid  a  gang  of  hoodlum  captors.  For  an  instant  I 
could  see  the  wild,  terror-stricken  face,  its  brown 
skin  turned  to  a  sickly  yellow,  its  eyes  rolling  in  the 
red  glare  of  the  torches  with  the  instinct  of  the  ani- 
mal seeking  despairingly  some  path  of  escape.  Then 
at  a  blow  from  behind  the  Chinaman  gave  a  scream 
and  plunged  headlong  down  the  steps. 


ON    THE    SAND-LOTS  261 

The  end  was  shut  out  from  my  sight,  but  I  was 
shaken  by  the  qualms  of  deathly  sickness  at  this 
wanton  barbarity,  as  the  maelstrom  of  struggling 
bodies  closed  in  upon  its  victim,  and  his  death-cries 
were  drowned  in  the  chorus  of  yells,  jeers  and  ani- 
mal ejaculations  of  rage  with  which  the  collective 
beast  accompanied  the  murder  of  Ah  Ging. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BATTLE 

As  I  came  within  sight  of  the  Kendrick  house, 
breathless,  shaken  with  scenes  of  brutality,  and  torn 
with  apprehensions,  I  found  that  my  fears  were  real- 
ized. A  disorderly  mob  of  two  or  three  hundred  men 
had  gathered  in  front  of  the  place,  their  groans  and 
hoots  filling  the  air,  and  the  score  or  more  of  torches 
they  carried  throwing  a  smoky  glare  on  the  build- 
ings. 

The  mob  had  not  yet  ventured  to  attack  the  place, 
and  I  was  relieved  to  see  that  Andrews  and  his  men 
still  held  the  steps  and  guarded  the  walls;  but  the 
riotous  elements  were  lashing  the  crowd  into  the 
courage  to  attack  the  little  band  that  looked  down 
upon  them. 

Suddenly,  as  I  reached  the  confines  of  the  crowd, 
a  silence  fell,  and  I  started  with  surprise  to  see  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick  walk  down  the  steps  to  the  level  of  the 
garden,  and  then  advance  to  the  iron  fence  that  sur- 
mounted the  retaining  wall.  From  this  point  of 
vantage  he  surveyed  the  mob  with  a  good-humored 
smile  and  waved  his  hand  in  cheerful  greeting.  I 
trembled  with  anxiety  at  his  rashness,  but  something 
in  his  personal  magnetism  held  them  for  him  to 
speak. 

262 


BATTLE  263 

"Well,  boys,"  he  cried  in  his  full  hearty  voice, 
"what  can  I  do  for  you?  Have  I  been  nominated 
for  mayor,  or  is  this  just  a  serenade  ?" 

A  laugh  here  and  there  showed  the  good  impres- 
sion he  had  made  on  his  audience,  and  a  hasty  voice 
from  the  leaders  of  the  mob  shouted : 

"We  want  you  to  fire  your  Chinese !" 

"The  Chinese?"  he  said,  affecting  to  misunder- 
stand the  cry.  "You've  come  to  the  right  shop  if  you 
want  a  good  little  talk  on  that  question.  As  I  told 
Senator  Morton  the  other  day,  I'm  the  original  Chi- 
nese exclusionist — not  excepting  Bill  Nye  and 
Truthful  James.  Ask  the  reporters  to  take  a  front 
seat." 

I  had  never  suspected  Wharton  Kendrick  of  ora- 
torical ability,  but  he  showed  all  the  arts  of  the  stump 
speaker,  and  with  a  few  pat  anecdotes  stated  his  po- 
sition, and  appealed  to  the  men  to  trust  the  settle- 
ment of  the  problem  to  the  substantial  men  of  the 
State. 

The  leaders  of  the  mob  were  quick  to  see  the  dan- 
ger to  their  schemes,  and  tried  several  interruptions, 
which  Kendrick  blandly  ignored.  At  last  one  of 
them  shouted  as  comment  on  his  profession  of  faith : 

"Then  why  don't  you  discharge  your  Chinese 
help?" 

This  thrust  renewed  the  cries  of  anger  from  the 
mob,  and  a  wolfish  look  came  on  the  faces  about  me. 

"Why,"  returned  Kendrick  with  a  jovial  laugh, 
"for  the  same  reason  that  the  rabbit  couldn't  cut  off 
his  tail — because  he  didn't  have  one.  I  don't  know 


264         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

any  reason  why  I  shouldn't  hire  a  Chinese  cook  if  I 
wanted  one,  as  long  as  they  are  permitted  to  come 
into  the  country ;  but  I  don't  want  one.  My  servants 
are  all  white." 

The  reply  raised  a  laugh,  and  a  few  enthusiastic 
rioters  shouted  "Hooray  for  Kendrick!" 

"Shut  up,  you  fools!"  cried  the  leaders;  and  the 
voice  that  had  called  on  Kendrick  to  discharge  his 
Chinese  shouted : 

"It's  a  lie  about  there  not  being  any  Chinese  in  de 
house!" 

"The  honorable  gentleman  has  forgotten  to  speak 
the  truth,"  retorted  Kendrick  good-humoredly.  "I 
keep  no  Chinese." 

"Aw,  what's  de  use  talkin'  like  dat?"  shouted  the 
voice.  "There's  a  Chinese  girl  in  de  house  dis  min- 
ute." 

"Quite  true,"  admitted  Kendrick  candidly.  "The 
poor  creature  was  wounded,  and  we  took  her  in  to 
save  her  from  the  highbinders.  You  surely  wouldn't 
have  us  turn  her  out.  She's  not  a  servant.  She's  a 
guest" 

The  explanation  was  lost  on  half  the  crowd  in  the 
clamor  that  had  been  raised.  One  of  the  mob  leaders 
shouted : 

"Where  there's  a  Chinese  girl  there's  a  dozen  Chi- 
nese men," — an  opinion  that  renewed  the  jeers  and 
catcalls. 

"Aw,  the  place  is  full  of  coolies !  Smoke  'em  out !" 
cried  another,  waving  a  torch. 

Even  with  this  renewal  of  hostile  sentiment,  the 


BATTLE  265 

leaders  of  the  mob  would  scarce  have  been  able  to 
spur  their  followers  to  violence  but  for  the  arrival 
of  a  reinforcement  of  another  hundred  hoodlums, 
shouting,  swearing,  and  laden  with  the  spoil  of 
looted  wash-houses.  They  came  straight  for  the 
Kendrick  house,  and  I  had  no  doubt  that  they  were 
directed  thither  by  the  same  mind  that  had  sent  the 
first  company  to  the  siege. 

While  the  play  between  Kendrick  and  the  mob 
had  been  going  on,  I  had  edged  my  way  toward  the 
steps  by  those  alternate  arts  of  diplomatic  and  ag- 
gressive pressure  which  enable  one  to  make  progress 
through  a  crowd.  The  arrival  of  the  hoodlum  re- 
inforcement brought  me  assistance  as  unwelcome  as 
it  was  unexpected. 

Wharton  Kendrick  faced  the  new-comers  with  a 
confident  smile,  and  appealed  with  a  jest  to  "the  gen- 
tlemen in  a  hurry"  for  a  hearing.  But  the  hoodlum 
arrivals  had  not  fallen  under  the  spell  of  his  per- 
sonality, and  their  courage  and  wrath  had  been  in- 
flamed by  their  success  in  their  wash-house  raids. 
With  shouts  of  "Gangway!  gangway!  Smoke  out 
the  coolies!"  they  charged  forward  in  a  wedge  that 
struck  the  standing  crowd  directly  behind  me.  There 
was  a  shock  of  meeting  bodies,  a  grunt  that  might 
have  come  from  a  giant  in  sudden  distress,  and  the 
crowd  crumpled  together  like  the  telescoping  cars  of 
a  railroad  collision ;  the  men  in  the  center  were  lifted 
off  their  feet,  and  the  crowd  was  forced  forward  and 
scattered  in  disorder. 

Standing  directly  in   the  line  of  shock,   I   was 


266         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

thrown  forward  with  amazing  force,  scraped  against 
the  stone  wall,  and  flung  headlong  on  to  the  lower 
step  of  the  flight  that  led  to  Wharton  Kendrick's 
garden.  At  the  same  moment  there  was  an  outburst 
of  wrathful  yells,  and  a  shower  of  stones  rattled 
about  me.  I  felt  a  smart  crack  from  a  falling  stick 
on  my  shoulder  as  I  scrambled  to  my  feet,  and  look- 
ing upward  I  was  just  in  time  to  see  Kendrick  struck 
by  a  flying  missile,  reel  backward,  fling  up  his  arms 
with  a  whirling  motion,  and  fall  heavily  on  to  the 
grass. 

I  faced  about  and  whipped  out  my  revolver,  when : 

"Stand  back  there!"  came  from  above  in  a  deter- 
mined voice. 

"Stand  back  there !"  I  repeated.  And  at  the  com- 
mand and  the  show  of  revolvers,  the  advancing 
hoodlums  swerved  aside  into  the  street  with  a  sud- 
den cooling  of  their  ardor  for  battle. 

"Is  that  you,  Mr.  Hampden  ?"  came  from  above, 
and  I  recognized  the  voice  of  Andrews,  the  head 
watchman  for  the  night. 

"Yes,"  I  replied.  "Be  ready  to  shoot  if  I  give  the 
word."  And  walking  backward  I  climbed  the  steps 
till  I  stood  on  the  landing  and  looked  down  on  the 
mob.  Then  with  an  eye  on  the  tossing,  circling  ar- 
ray of  faces  below,  I  knelt  over  Wharton  Kendrick. 
He  was  limp  and  still.  A  long  cut  extended  from  his 
forehead  well  back  into  his  hair,  and  the  blood  flow- 
ing from  it  had  moistened  his  face  and  dyed  his 
thinning  locks. 

I  glanced  at  the  mob,  noted  the  signs  that  it  was 


BATTLE  267 

gathering  courage  for  another  attack,  and  was  cal- 
culating on  the  risk  of  weakening  our  defense  by 
ordering  the  men  to  carry  Wharton  Kendrick  into 
the  house,  when  I  heard  the  door  open  behind  me. 
There  was  a  swift  patter  of  footsteps  on  the  walk, 
and  Laura  Kendrick  flung  herself  on  her  knees  be- 
side me  with  a  cry  of  grief  and  fear,  and  lifted  her 
uncle's  head  in  her  arms. 

"Oh,"  she  cried  with  a  choking  voice,  "have  they 
killed  him?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "he's  alive.  He  will  be  all  right 
in  a  little  while."  I  hoped  I  was  telling  the  truth. 
"We'll  get  him  into  the  house,  and  have  a  doctor  to 
look  after  him  as  soon  as  we  can  drive  this  mob 
away.  Please  go  in  now.  You  may  be  hurt  yourself 
if  you  stay." 

She  had  been  wiping  away  the  blood  with  her 
handkerchief,  to  the  soft  accompaniment  of  a  croon- 
ing utterance,  as  though  she  were  quieting  a  sick 
child. 

"Indeed,  I  shall  not  go  in  till  he  does,"  she  said. 
"Do  you  think  I  shall  leave  him  out  here  to  be  killed 
by  those  dreadful  creatures?" 

"Please  go,"  I  said.  "You  can  do  nothing  here, 
and  the  mob  may  begin  firing  at  any  minute." 

At  the  apparition  of  the  girlish  figure  the  rioters 
had  hushed  something  of  their  wrathful  cries,  but  I 
felt  none  the  less  apprehensive  of  their  next  act. 

As  I  spoke,  with  something  of  peremptoriness 
in  my  voice,  Laura  Kendrick  started  to  her  feet, 
but  instead  of  returning  to  the  house  she  walked 


268         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

hurriedly  to  the  wall,  and  stood  resolutely  facing  the 
crowd. 

"Come  back !"  I  cried  with  dismay,  and  restrained 
my  impulse  to  rush  before  her  with  the  thought 
that  I  should  be  much  more  likely  to  incite  than  to 
prevent  an  attack. 

But  instead  of  heeding  my  summons  she  began 
an  indignant  appeal  to  the  men  before  her,  trying 
to  shame  them  at  their  errand.  As  her  piquant  voice 
rose  on  the  air  a  terror  gripped  my  throat  at  the 
thought  of  the  response  that  her  call  might  bring, 
but  at  her  first  words  the  crowd  hushed  to  stillness, 
and  I  saw  a  man  cuff  a  young  hoodlum  who  uttered 
a  catcall.  The  appeal  of  the  slender  figure  facing 
the  mob  in  the  glare  of  the  torches  that  had  been 
brought  to  burn  her  house  was  a  better  protection 
for  the  moment  than  the  revolvers  of  my  men. 

"Do  you  think  it  manly  to  strike  at  the  sick  or  at 
women?  Do  you  think  it  right  to  try  to  murder 
your  friends?  You  have  struck  down  a  man  who 
never  had  an  unkind  word  for  you — who  has  done 
more  than  all  of  you  put  together  to  keep  the  Chinese 
out  of  the  country.  Do  you  think  that  is  the  way  to 
help  your  cause  ?  I  don't. 

The  mob  preserved  an  admirable  silence,  and  she 
turned  to  me  and  said  in  low,  excited  tones,  "Carry 
him  into  the  house  while  they  are  behaving  them- 
selves." 

I  had  already  given  the  order,  and  four  of  my  men 
bore  the  stricken  magnate  up  the  steps  and  through 
the  doors,  while  Laura  spoke  once  more  to  the  mob. 


BATTLE  269 

"I'm  sure,"  she  said,  "y°u  ought  to  see  by  this 
time  that  you've  done  enough  harm  to  your  cause 
for  one  day,  and  I  hope  you'll  go  quietly  home  be- 
fore you  do  anything  worse." 

"Three  cheers  for  the  leddy!"  came  in  strong 
Hibernian  response,  and  the  mover  of  the  resolution 
led  off  with  such  a  will  that  a  hundred  more  voices 
joined  in  the  tribute. 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied,  "and  good  night." 
And  with  a  courtesy  to  the  uninvited  guests,  she 
turned,  crossed  the  garden,  and  mounted  the  steps 
with  dainty  grace.  At  the  door  she  turned,  gave  an- 
other bow,  and  waved  her  hand  in  farewell,  and 
then  slipped  through  the  open  door  as  another  cheer 
was  raised. 

I  had  followed  her  with  the  purpose  of  keeping 
between  her  and  possible  missiles  and  my  misdirect- 
ed solicitude  was  rewarded.  As  she  put  foot  within 
the  hall,  she  staggered  and  would  have  fallen  had  I 
not  caught  her.  For  an  instant  she  clung  to  me  with 
a  convulsive  gasp  of  fear.  Then  her  grasp  relaxed, 
her  head  sank  back,  and  her  full  weight  rested  on 
my  encircling  arm.  At  the  sight  of  her  white  face, 
and  the  crimson  stains  on  her  hands  and  dress  that 
had  come  from  her  uncle's  blood,  I  gave  a  cry  of 
alarm,  and  lifted  her  limp  form  as  carefully  as  one 
takes  up  a  sleeping  child. 

For  a  minute  of  tumultuous  joy  and  fear  I  held 
her  in  my  arms,  as  I  carried  her  to  the  room  into 
which  her  uncle  had  been  borne.  But  before  I 
reached  the  door  she  opened  her  eyes  languidly. 


270         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Then  with  a  startled  look,  full  consciousness  re- 
turned. 

"Put  me  down,"  she  said,  and  struggled  to  her 
feet.  But  so  unsteadily  did  she  stand  that  she  was 
forced  to  reach  out  for  support,  and  I  put  a  sus- 
taining arm  about  her. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  in  a  whisper.  "Did  I  get 
knocked  down?  My  head  is  going  round  and 
round." 

"No,  you  are  all  right,"  I  said  soothingly.  "There 
was  a  little  too  much  excitement  outside  for  you,  I'm 
afraid." 

"Oh,  I  was  goose  enough  to  faint,  was  I?"  she 
said,  disengaging  herself  with  a  swift  movement. 
But  once  more  in  full  command  of  herself,  tears  of 
apprehension  gathered  in  her  eyes,  and  she  asked, 
"Where  is  uncle?" 

And  as  I  motioned  to  the  door,  she  turned  and 
ran  into  the  room  where  Wharton  Kendrick  lay 
white  and  still  upon  a  couch.  Mercy  Fillmore's  deft 
hands  were  washing  the  wound,  a  servant  was  as- 
sisting, and  the  four  men  who  had  brought  the 
wounded  master  into  the  house  stood  about  in  wait 
for  orders.  With  a  word  I  sent  three  to  rejoin  the 
line  of  defense,  and  directed  the  fourth  to  slip  out  the 
back  way  in  quest  of  Doctor  Roberts. 

Laura  Kendrick  took  her  place  quietly  at  Mercy 
Fillmore's  side  and  with  tense  self-possession  assist- 
ed at  the  dressing  of  the  wound.  And  in  the  calmness 
and  practised  touch  with  which  they  played  the  part 
of  surgeons  I  had  demonstration  of  the  skill  they 


BATTLE  271 

had  acquired  in  the  weeks  of  service  which  they  had 
devoted  to  Moon  Ying. 

"I  don't  see  why  he  doesn't  come  to  himself," 
said  Laura,  when  the  bandage  had  been  adjusted. 
"I  wish  we  could  get  the  doctor." 

"I  have  sent  a  man  after  him,"  I  said. 

"Do  you  think  he  can  get  through  that  howling 
mob  of  savages  ?  I'm  afraid  he  will  be  killed ;  and  if 
he  isn't,  the  doctor  can  never  get  in." 

"Oh,  there's  the  back  gate.  I  hope  the  doctor's 
not  above  taking  it."  I  had  hardly  spoken  when  I 
was  checked  at  seeing  my  messenger  standing  in 
the  hall.  Before  I  could  exclaim  at  his  sudden  re- 
turn, he  had  beckoned  me  out  with  a  warning  finger 
on  his  lips. 

At  his  signal  I  left  the  room  with  an  attempt  to 
disguise  my  disturbance  of  mind  under  the  pre- 
tense of  idle  restlessness. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked,  as  soon  as  I  got 
the  man  away  from  the  door. 

"There's  a  gang  over  in  the  next  yard,"  he  said, 
"and  I  couldn't  get  through.  I'm  afraid  they're  get- 
ting ready  to  set  fire  to  the  house.  I  smelt  kerosene 
when  I  climbed  on  the  fence.  One  of  'em  says  some- 
thing about  'smoking  'em  out,'  an'  I  guess  they're 
fixing  up  some  sort  of  fire-balls." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Miss  Kendrick, 
coming  to  the  door.  "You  are  not  meaning  to  ven- 
ture out  among  those  savages  again  ?" 

"I  think  it's  time  I  told  them  to  go  home,"  I  said. 
"They  are  making  a  good  deal  of  noise  out  there." 


272         iTHE   APPLE   OF    DISCORD 

"You  must  not  do  anything  of  the  sort,"  she 
said,  catching  my  arm.  "I  told  them  to  go,  and  if 
they  won't  go  for  my  telling,  they  won't  go  for 
yours." 

I  bent  over  her  with  more  tremors  than  I  had  felt 
in  the  midst  of  the  mob. 

"I  shouldn't  go  unless  I  thought  it  would  help  to 
protect  you,"  I  said. 

"Well,  if  you  must  go,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "please 
be  careful  and  do  not  go  out  the  front  way.  Take  the 
side  door,  where  there's  nobody  likely  to  see  you." 
And  leading  the  way  down  the  passage  between  the 
library  and  the  dining-room  she  slipped  a  bolt  and 
opened  the  door  enough  to  let  us  out.  She  held  out 
her  hand  to  me. 

"You're  not  to  get  hurt,"  she  murmured,  as  I 
paused. 

"That  settles  it.  I  shall  preserve  a  whole  skin." 
And  with  a  pressure  of  the  hand,  I  hastened  out  the 
door. 

The  yells  from  the  front  came  with  renewed  dis- 
tinctness, but  no  sounds  of  attack  were  to  be  heard. 
The  mob  appeared  to  have  resolved  itself  into  a  dis- 
orderly debating  society.  I  hurried  to  the  rear  of 
the  house  with  my  messenger. 

"Are  any  of  our  men  back  here?"  I  asked. 

"One — Reardon  is  at  the  kitchen  steps,"  replied 
the  man. 

Reardon  proved  to  be  awake  and  ready  for  any 
enterprise,  and  we  advanced  to  the  fence  and  re- 
connoitered.  The  dim  light  showed  a  band  of  fifteen 


BATTLE  273 

or  twenty  men  gathered  a  few  yards  away  in  the 
vacant  lot  behind  the  Kendrick  place. 

"Aren't  they  ready  yet?"  asked  one  impatient  con- 
spirator. "I  could  have  fixed  forty  fire-balls  in  the 
time  you've  taken  to  fix  those  three." 

"Why  didn't  you  come  and  do  it  then?"  was  the 
resentful  and  belligerent  answer.  "I'll  have  them 
ready  in  a  jiffy." 

With  a  few  whispered  words  of  direction  I  sta- 
tioned my  men  by  the  fence,  a  dozen  yards  apart, 
and  took  my  place  between  them.  Then  climbing  up 
I  gave  a  blast  on  a  police  whistle,  and  cried : 

"Now,  boys,  gather  them  in.  Don't  let  one  get 
away."  And  at  the  word  I  fired  three  or  four  shots 
at  the  group  and  my  men  followed  my  example. 

The  surprise  was  complete.  At  the  fusillade  there 
was  a  scattering  of  the  gang,  and  with  a  sudden 
realization  of  the  importance  of  their  personal  safety 
they  took  to  their  heels  and  ran  into  Franklin 
Street. 

"That  was  a  foine  job,  sor.  We  must  have  hit  a 
power  of  thim,"  said  Reardon,  with  an  exemplary 
faith  in  our  marksmanship. 

"I  hope  so,"  I  said.  I  had  been  roused  to  fury  by 
the  deliberate  preparations  to  burn  the  house,  and 
had  shot  to  do  mischief.  "It  looks  as  though  we  had 
got  one  fellow,  anyhow,"  I  added,  as  I  discovered  a 
dark  heap  on  the  ground,  and  heard  a  whimpering 
groan. 

We  jumped  down  from  the  fence,  and  an  advance 
of  a  few  steps  confirmed  my  guess.  A  man  lay 


274         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

writhing  on  the  earth,  giving  utterance  to  suppressed 
sounds  of  pain.  Reardon  knelt  over  him. 

"Why,  it's  Danny  Regan!"  he  cried.  "What  th' 
divil  are  ye  doin'  here,  Danny?" 

"Go  'way,  ye  murderin'  spalpeen!"  replied  the 
stricken  Danny.  "Me  leg  is  bruk.  'Tis  a  bullet 
sthruck  me  knee." 

"  'Twas  me  that  give  it  to  yez,  Danny,"  said 
Reardon  with  a  chuckle.  "I  picked  ye  out,  me  lad — 
an'  whin  Pat  Reardon  takes  aim  he  niver  misses.  If 
he  don't  hit  wan  thing  he  hits  another — an'  it's  dol- 
lars to  dimes  the  other  thing's  jist  as  good." 

The  wounded  man  replied  to  this  boast  with  an 
outbreak  of  curses. 

"Yer  timper's  been  soured,  Danny,"  said  Rear- 
don. "That  comes  of  mixin'  in  bad  company.  '  'Tis 
evil  communications  corrupts  a  good  disposition,' 
says  Father  Ryan ;  an'  if  you'd  listened  to  him  you'd 
a-been  home  an'  in  bed  now  wid  two  sound  legs 
instead  of  wan." 

"Well,  take  me  home,  Pat,"  groaned  the  wounded 
conspirator;  "though  maybe  you'd  like  to  make  a 
clane  job  of  it  by  puttin'  wan  iv  yer  bullets  t'rough 
me  head." 

"Faith,  I  wouldn't  waste  another  wan  on  yez. 
Bullets  cost  money.  If  I  did  me  dooty  I'd  settle  yer 
case  by  mashin'  yer  head  in  wid  a  rock." 

"We  wouldn't  get  so  far  as  that,"  I  said.  "We'll 
compromise  by  holding  him  prisoner  of  war.  Up 
with  him  now." 

Our  inexpert  handling  brought   whimpers   and 


BATTLE  275 

curses  from  the  prisoner.  And  in  a  few  minutes  we 
had  him  bestowed  as  comfortably  as  possible  in  the 
little  room  that  the  watchmen  had  used  as  a  loung- 
ing place. 

"Now,"  said  I  to  my  messenger,  "get  over  to 
Doctor  Roberts'  house  as  fast  as  you  can.  Tell  him 
Mr.  Kendrick  is  hurt,  and  bring  him  back  with  you. 
Hurry!" 

The  messenger  had  scarce  disappeared  when 
Reardon  exclaimed : 

"Whist !   There  comes  some  more  of  'em." 

Above  the  excited  hubbub  of  the  besieging  crowd 
in  front  could  be  heard  a  swelling  roar  that  became 
more  distinct  with  each  moment.  The  significance 
of  the  sound  was  unmistakable.  Another  reinforce- 
ment was  approaching,  and  in  fear  lest  the  assail- 
ants who  had  been  beaten  off  were  returning  to 
attack  us  from  the  rear  we  ran  back  to  the  fence. 
All  was  quiet  in  that  direction,  and  the  hostile  sounds 
now  came  so  plainly  from  the  front  that  I  doubled 
speed  to  the  threatened  quarter  just  as  a  scattering 
crackle  of  pistol-shots  punctuated  the  inarticulate 
language  of  the  mob,  and  a  volley  of  stones  hurtled 
against  the  house  with  the  explosive  tinkle  of  break- 
ing windows. 

I  reached  the  front  yard  just  as  another  volley 
took  out  every  window  that  faced  the  street,  and 
saw  that  a  concerted  rush  was  being  made  against 
the  place.  A  body  of  men  was  being  pushed  up 
the  steps  between  the  flanking  walls  by  the  pressure 
of  the  mob  behind,  and  immediately  before  me — at 


276         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  side  of  the  garden — two  young  men  were  mount- 
ing the  wall  on  the  shoulders  of  their  companions, 
the  vanguard  of  a  flank  attack  that  would  capture 
the  place  if  they  once  got  a  foothold.  I  fired  a  shot 
at  one,  who  disappeared  with  a  surprising  sudden- 
ness, and  then  bethinking  myself  of  the  unwisdom 
of  wasting  bullets,  I  ran  forward  and  brought  down 
my  revolver  on  the  head  of  the  other  invader.  He 
had  just  got  his  knee  on  the  railing,  but  he  went 
down  the  eight-foot  drop  with  a  yell  of  pain  and  a 
torrent  of  bad  language.  At  the  same  moment  the 
men  who  were  defending  the  steps  threw  the  assail- 
ing column  into  confusion  by  a  fortunate  volley,  and 
the  attack  gave  back.  A  score  of  answering  shots 
came  from  the  mob,  and  a  bullet  whistled  so  close 
to  my  ear  that  I  clapped  my  hand  to  the  spot  with  the 
thought  that  a  piece  had  been  taken  off.  The  agreea- 
ble disappointment  of  finding  that  I  was  mistaken 
was  overshadowed  a  moment  later  by  the  discovery 
that  the  wall  at  the  farther  side  of  the  garden  had 
been  scaled  by  a  dozen  of  the  mob,  and  that  others 
were  clambering  up  in  their  path. 

"Look  out  there  on  your  right,  Andrews !"  I  cried, 
hastening  to  join  the  company.  "They  are  on  the 
terrace." 

Before  I  reached  the  steps  the  dozen  had  increased 
to  a  score,  and  it  looked  as  though  we  were  to  be 
overwhelmed  by  numbers.  For  an  instant  it  seemed 
that  our  best  chance  lay  in  retreating  into  the  house 
in  the  hope  that  it  would  serve  as  a  fortress  until  the 
police  arrived.  But  as  the  house  was  only  a  wooden 


BATTLE  277 

structure,  and  it  was  the  expressed  purpose  of  the 
mob  to  burn  us  out,  I  felt  it  was  to  be  regarded  as 
the  last  resort  of  resistance. 

"Shoot  them  down!"  I  cried. 

"Not  much  chance,"  said  Andrews  as  I  reached 
him.  "We're  down  to  our  last  cartridges." 

This  was  a  sickening  bit  of  information,  but  it 
assured  me  that  prompt  action  was  of  the  last  im- 
portance. I  took  one  of  my  men  by  the  shoulder 
and  pushed  him  over  toward  the  position  I  had  just 
left. 

"Here,"  I  said,  "see  that  nobody  gets  over  that 
wall.  You  two,"  picking  out  a  pair  of  the  guards, 
"hold  the  stair.  Come  on,  the  rest  of  you.  We  must 
clear  these  fellows  out.  Double  quick,  now." 

At  this  command  the  men  sprang  forward  by  my 
side,  and  we  ran  to  the  invaded  quarter,  firing  off 
our  remaining  cartridges  as  we  charged. 

The  mob  was  mostly  of  but  poor  stuff,  after  all. 
Half  of  those  who  had  been  bold  enough  to  climb 
to  the  terrace  halted  at  sight  of  our  advance,  and 
dropped  over  the  wall  to  the  sidewalk  in  panic.  But 
we  were,  nevertheless,  greatly  outnumbered  by  those 
who  stood  their  ground,  and  a  scattering  though 
harmless  fusillade  gave  evidence  that  they  were 
armed. 

In  a  moment  we  were  in  the  thick  of  it.  Fists, 
clubs  and  revolvers  were  flying,  and  the  thud  of 
body  blows  could  be  heard  under  the  cries  and  curses 
that  formed  the  dramatic  chorus  to  the  struggle. 
We  used  our  empty  revolvers  as  clubs,  and  we 


278         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

appeared  to  do  more  execution  with  them  handled 
thus  than  with  all  the  bullets  we  had  fired.  A  bullet 
has  a  way  of  wandering  from  its  mark,  but  a  pistol- 
barrel  brought  down  with  a  vigorous  arm  on  a 
man's  head  never  fails  in  execution,  and  has  a  ten- 
dency to  turn  the  most  ardent  warrior  into  the  ways 
of  peace.  But  in  spite  of  good  luck,  discipline  and 
desperation,  we  were  far  from  having  the  battle  all 
our  own  way.  I  had  envied  the  ease  with  which  my 
favorite  heroes  of  romance  bowled  over  half  a  dozen 
enemies  with  fist  or  sword,  and  I  envied  them  still 
more  when  I  found  myself  in  a  place  to  put  their  les- 
sons into  practice.  I  had  not  been  in  the  conflict 
more  than  a  minute  when  a  knock  on  the  head  from 
a  bony  fist  and  a  thump  on  the  shoulder  from  a  club 
sent  me  to  the  grass  with  a  realization  of  how  much 
better  it  is  to  give  than  to  receive.  But  I  was  fortu- 
nate enough  to  be  up  again  in  a  moment,  and  laying 
about  me  with  a  savage  hope  of  repaying  with  usury 
the  men  who  had  sent  me  to  the  ground. 

How  the  battle  would  have  gone  if  we  had  been 
left  to  our  unaided  strength,  I  shall  leave  to  less  par- 
tial historians  to  say.  But  just  as  I  had  been 
thoroughly  impressed  with  the  fact  that  seven  men 
have  their  work  cut  out  for  them  when  they  are 
called  on  to  attack  a  score,  I  heard  a  roar  from  the 
mob  that  finally  separated  into  an  articulate  cry  of — 

"Here  come  the  cops!  Look  out  for  the  police! 
Knock  their  heads  off!"  And  a  company  of  the 
guardians  of  order  could  be  seen  charging  down  the 
avenue. 


BATTLE  279 

The  pugilistic  activities  of  the  mob  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  police,  however,  appeared  to  be  purely 
vocal.  So  far  as  I  was  able  to  observe,  the  head- 
knocking  business  was  wholly  on  the  other  side. 

At  the  warning  cry  there  was  a  sudden  slackening 
of  activity  among  the  invaders  of  the  terrace.  Then 
they  began  to  drop  over  the  wall  to  rejoin  the  re- 
treating main  body,  and  in  a  minute,  with  a  panic 
rush,  they  were  all  gone.  And  while  I  caught  my 
breath  once  more  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
the  mob  driven  like  sheep  before  a  company  of  some 
twenty-five  policemen,  who  were  savagely  rapping 
with  their  clubs  at  every  head  they  could  reach. 
The  crowd  was  flying  from  a  body  of  men  that  it 
could  have  swallowed  up,  smothered,  annihilated,  by 
sheer  force  of  numbers,  awed  less  by  the  physical 
force  represented  by  the  clubs  than  by  the  moral 
force  of  law  that  lay  behind  them. 

I  hailed  the  police  captain  as  a  brother  and  a  pre- 
server, and  hastily  explained  the  state  of  affairs. 

"It's  a  bad  night  for  us  all,"  he  said.  "We're 
fighting  'em  from  North  Beach  to  Tar  Flat.  They've 
killed  a  dozen  Chinamen,  an'  I'll  bet  my  straps  there 
isn't  a  Chinese  wash-house  left  with  a  window  in 
the  whole  city." 

"I'm  afraid  we  aren't  much  better  off  here,"  I 
said,  with  a  rueful  look  at  the  vacant  sashes  of  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick's  windows. 

"It's  bad— it's  bad,"  said  the  officer.  "We  got 
word  they  were  coming  here,  and  the  chief  sent  us 
up  to  clear  the  avenue.  Then  we  heard  that  they 


280         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

were  settin'  fire  to  Stanford's  and  Crocker's  so  we 
rushed  over  to  Nob  Hill.  It  was  only  a  small  crowd 
there,  though,  and  after  chasin'  them  out,  we  hurried 
up  here." 

"You  were  just  in  time,"  I  said.  "We  were  hard 
pressed." 

"I'm  sorry  I  can't  leave  you  a  few  men,"  said 
the  captain,  "but  we've  got  too  much  work  ahead 
of  us.  I  don't  think  they'll  try  it  again.  But  we'll 
look  around  this  way  again  in  an  hour  or  two." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

I   BECOME   A   MAN   OF   BUSINESS 

I  was  a  sorry  sight  when  I  entered  the  house 
once  more,  with  one  sleeve  torn  from  my  coat,  a 
large  and  growing  lump  over  my  right  eye,  and 
my  clothing  an  impressionist  study  in  grass-stains 
and  earth  colors. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  I  was  not  aware 
of  the  picturesque  figure  I  made  until  I  saw  the  hor- 
ror-stricken look  that  swept  over  Laura  Kendrick's 
face  as  she  met  me  in  the  hall. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "you  did  go  and  get  yourself 
murdered,  after  all !" 

"No,  indeed.  I  had  a  day's  work  crowded  into  a 
few  minutes,  but  we  got  them  driven  off,  and  I'm 
as  sound  as  a  dollar."  I  spoke  with  the  exultation  of 
victory;  but  with  the  reaction  from  the  excitement 
and  fatigue  of  the  battle  I  felt  the  need  of  a  place  to 
sit  down  and  pull  myself  together. 

"Then  you're  very  well  disguised,"  she  returned 
anxiously.  "Are  those  dreadful  wretches  all  gone? 
Come  into  our  hospital  here — right  away — and  we'll 
wash  the  blood  off  your  face,  and  try  to  put  you  to 
rights." 

"How  is  Mr.  Kendrick?"  I  asked,  as  she  led  me 
toward  the  "hospital." 

"He  has  opened  his  eyes  and  said  a  few  words. 
281 


282         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Doctor  Roberts  is  here,  and  has  stitched  up  his 
head,  and  says  he  will  be  all  right  in  a  week  or  two 
if  we  take  good  care  of  him." 

The  room  set  aside  for  the  hospital  had  a  highly 
professional  look.  Wharton  Kendrick  lay  on  the 
same  couch  on  which  I  had  left  him.  Doctor  Rob- 
erts was  bending  over  him,  carefully  adjusting  the 
bandage  on  his  head.  Near  them  I  was  surprised 
to  see  Danny  Regan  of  the  broken  leg,  attended  by 
Mercy  Fillmore,  while  at  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
propped  up  in  an  easy  chair,  was  Moon  Ying,  look- 
ing on  the  scene  with  passive  wonder. 

"Sit  here,"  ordered  Miss  Kendrick,  wheeling  a 
big  chair  to  the  table,  and  I  was  glad  to  obey.  "Yes," 
she  continued,  noting  my  scrutiny  of  Danny  Regan 
and  Moon  Ying.  "The  cook  complained  of  the 
groans  she  heard  from  the  men's  room,  so  we  found 
out  what  had  happened  and  had  the  man  brought 
here.  And  just  before  the  rocks  began  to  fly  I  had 
run  up  to  see  about  Moon  Ying,  so  I  had  her  carried 
down.  It  was  lucky  I  did,  for  we  had  hardly  got  out 
of  the  room  when  bang-cling!  went  every  window 
in  the  front  of  the  house.  I  thought  she  had  best  be 
on  the  ground  floor  in  case  of  fire,  and  this  room  was 
as  safe  as  any  in  the  house.  My !  what  a  bump  you 
did  get.  A  .riot  is  'most  as  bad  as  falling  down- 
stairs, isn't  it?" 

With  deft  fingers  she  had  wiped  away  the  stains 
of  battle,  and  now  she  wrung  out  a  cloth  in  cold 
water,  folded  it  into  a  compress,  and  bound  it  skil- 
fully over  my  swollen  forehead. 


She  wiped  away  the  stains  of  battle          Page  282 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     283 

I  leaned  back  luxuriously,  and  gazed  with  admira- 
tion on  my  nurse. 

"It's  quite  worth  while,  after  all,"  I  said. 

She  colored,  but  looked  steadily  at  me  as  she 
worked. 

"Don't  get  too  appreciative,"  she  said. 

"Impossible !"  I  interrupted. 

"Because,"  she  said,  "I'm  coming  to  believe  that 
you're  not  so  badly  hurt  as  your  poor  head  looks. 
The  blood  on  your  face  isn't  yours  at  all,  but  came 
from  somebody  else — " 

"You  ought  to  see  the  other  fellow,"  I  murmured 
softly. 

" — and  you've  been  getting  sympathy  under  false 
pretenses,  and  I  really  think  I  ought  to  call  Jane  to 
look  after  you  while  I  attend  to  uncle." 

"I  shall  sink  into  the  last  stages  of  dissolution/'" 
I  protested,  "if  you  turn  me  over  to  an  incompetent 
nurse." 

"Incompetent!  Why,  Jane  is  twice  as  competent 
as  I." 

"It  depends  on  the  complaint.  I'm  sure  she 
wouldn't  understand  mine  at  all." 

Laura  smiled  indulgently  as  she  adjusted  the  last 
knot  on  the  bandage. 

"There,"  she  said,  "you're  quite  picturesque,  and 
you'll  be  all  right  in  the  morning.  And  I  don't  think 
you  need  anybody  to  look  after  you  at  all." 

I  was  about  to  protest  that  my  condition  was  most 
serious  when  she  was  called  to  Wharton  Kend rick's 
couch,  and  I  caught  Moon  Ying's  eyes  fixed  on 


284         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

mine.  I  smiled  and  nodded,  and  she  beckoned  me, 
so  I  wheeled  my  chair  to  her  side. 

"What  I  tell-em  you?"  she  said.  "I  no  go  'way, 
bad  man  come,  all  same  shoot,  fight,  tly  bu'n  house, 
eh?" 

"This  not  for  you,  Moon  Ying,"  I  reassured  her. 
"Bad  man  come,  anyhow.  Plenty  of  that  kind  out- 
side of  Chinatown." 

Moon  Ying  shook  her  head  and  pointed  to  Danny 
Regan. 

"Him  Li'l  John's  explessman — I  sabby  him  many 
time  come  Li'l  John's  place." 

I  looked  at  Danny  Regan's  low-browed  counte- 
nance, and  realized  that  an  attack  of  the  high- 
binders' mercenaries  had  been  made  under  cover  of 
the  larger  attack  of  Bolton's  hirelings  and  the  anti- 
Chinese  mob. 

"I  think  you're  right,  Moon  Ying,"  I  said.  "But 
just  you  sabby  this :  bad  men  in  front  of  house,  they 
no  come  from  Little  John ;  they  were  after  Mr.  Ken- 
drick.  You  can  claim  those  fellows  behind  the 
house.  But  you  see  we  are  no  worse  off  for  having 
you  here.  'Twas  the  other  fellows  who  broke  the 
windows." 

I  was  just  on  the  point  of  interrogating  Danny 
Regan  as  to  the  inspiring  cause  of  his  raid  when  I 
heard  Wharton  Kendrick's  voice  rise  in  querulous 
tones : 

"Here,  I  must  get  up,"  he  said  with  evident  effort. 
"Is  the  city  on  fire?" 

"After  a  while,"  said  the  soothing  voice  of  the 


I   BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     285 

doctor.  "The  city  is  all  safe,  and  you'll  have  to  wait 
till  to-morrow  before  you  get  out." 

"I  must  look  after  things  to-night,"  said  the  pa- 
tient, his  voice  rising  complainingly.  "I  must  look 
after  things." 

I  got  to  my  feet  and  walked  softly  to  his  couch. 
He  was  vainly  trying  to  rise,  and  beating  the  air 
helplessly  with  his  hands. 

"I  must  get  out — help  me,  somebody!"  he  cried  in 
an  appealing  voice.  He  tried  to  lift  himself,  but  his 
body  refused  to  obey  his  will. 

The  doctor  uttered  a  soothing  protest 

Miss  Kendrick  added  her  voice  to  the  authority 
of  the  doctor  and  at  her  quieting  words  Wharton 
Kendrick  closed  his  eyes.  Then  on  a  sudden  he 
opened  them  widely,  and  again  attempted  to  raise 
his  head. 

"It's  the  business — it's  the  business!"  he  cried 
with  the  voice  of  one  who  had  brought  a  forgotten 
thing  from  the  depths  of  his  memory.  "It's  all  up- 
set. I  must  see  to  it,  or  it  will  be  too  late." 

She  patted  him  again  with  gentle  hand. 

"There — there,"  she  said,  in  the  comforting 
mother-tone.  "It  will  be  all  right.  You  can't  do 
anything  to-night.  It's  after  ten  o'clock." 

He  gave  a  groan. 

"The  markets  will  go  to  smash  in  the  morning 
unless  we  get  ready  for  them  to-night.  It's  all  up," 
he  moaned.  "It  was  all  in  my  head,  and  it's  all  gone. 
There'll  be  a  smash  in  the  market  to-morrow,  and 
I  can't  help  it."  Then  he  broke  into  passionate 


286         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

sobbing,  while  Laura  Kendrick  knelt  over  him5 
wiped  away  his  tears,  and  made  above  him  those 
murmuring  sounds  with  which  the  mother  comforts 
the  hurt  child. 

It  was  with  something  of  the  awe  with  which  one 
meets  the  earthquake  that  I  witnessed  the  collapse  of 
the  fortitude  and  self-control  in  Wharton  Ken- 
drick. The  foundations  of  the  earth  seemed  break- 
ing up  when  I  saw  this  type  of  self-reliant  manhood 
whimpering  and  weeping  like  a  whipped  school- 
boy. 

Doctor  Roberts  had  been  attending  to  Danny  Re- 
gan of  the  broken  leg,  but  he  now  returned  to  his 
more  demonstrative  patient. 

"Come,  come,"  he  said  in  his  most  cheerful  pro- 
fessional tone.  "This  is  no  way  to  get  well.  If  you 
want  to  be  out  to-morrow,  you  must  be  quiet."  And 
he  motioned  us  away. 

"It's  all  going  to  smash — I  can  hear  it  going," 
sobbed  Kendrick,  "and  I  can't  remember  what  to 
do."  He  lay  looking  anxiously  from  side  to  side 
and  repeated  over  and  over,  "I  can't  remember  what 
to  do." 

As  Doctor  Roberts  motioned  us  away  again,  I 
took  him  aside. 

"Is  there  any  chance  of  his  getting  down  to  busi- 
ness to-morrow  ?" 

"Not  the  slightest.  And  he  must  not  be  excited 
by  talking  of  it." 

"I  think  I  can  ease  his  mind  somewhat,"  I  said. 
An  idea  had  been  slowly  forming  in  my  brain,  and 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     287 

now  it  sprang  forth  complete.  I  sat  down  by  him 
and  took  his  hand  to  help  his  wandering  attention. 

"I'll  look  out  for  the  business,"  I  said.  "I'll  see 
Mr.  Coleman  to-night.  We'll  get  the  syndicate  to- 
gether, and  protect  the  markets  to-morrow." 

"That's  it — the  syndicate — that's  it,"  he  cried 
with  a  visible  relief.  "That's  what  I  was  trying  to 
think  of — the  syndicate.  Coleman  will  know ;  Part- 
ridge will  know." 

I  called  for  paper,  pens  and  ink,  and  wrote  out  in 
duplicate  a  formal  authorization  by  which  Wharton 
Kendrick  gave  Arthur  Hampden,  his  attorney,  the 
power  to  act  for  him  in  all  his  business  affairs. 

In  the  meantime  I  had  despatched  one  of  my  men 
to  summon  a  notary  who  lived  down  by  Polk  Street. 
The  official  was  at  home,  up,  and  dressed,  and  he 
hurried  to  the  Kendrick  house,  hot  on  the  scent  of 
the  liberal  fee  that  the  name  called  up  before  his  im- 
agination. When  he  had  come,  I  read  aloud  the 
power  of  attorney  I  had  drawn. 

"That's  it,  Hampden;  you  won't  see  me  go  down, 
will  you?"  said  my  client  in  a  pleading  voice.  And 
with  some  difficulty  he  attached  his  signature,  and 
Doctor  Roberts  and  Mercy  Fillmore  signed  as  wit- 
nesses, while  the  notary  affixed  his  official  acknow- 
ledgment. 

Armed  with  this  evidence  of  power,  I  started  for 
my  hat,  when  Miss  Kendrick  stopped  me. 

"You  aren't  going  out  in  that  fix,  are  you?"  she 
demanded.  And  at  her  gesture  I  remembered  my 
torn  and  one-sleeved  coat,  and  the  chiaroscuro 


288         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

of  soil  and  grass  stains  with  which  I  had  been 
decorated. 

"I  was  thinking  that  I  should  be  all  right  if  \  got 
a  hat,  but  I'm  afraid  it  will  take  more  than  that 
to  fit  me  out,"  I  said  ruefully.  "Come  to  think  of  it, 
my  hat  is  out  on  the  lawn  with  the  other  sleeve  of 
my  coat.  There's  quite  a  collection  of  second-hand 
clothing  out  there,  but  it's  rather  dark  to  find  one's 
own." 

"Men  are  so  fussy  about  their  hats,"  said  Miss 
Laura,  "but  I'll  have  the  collection  brought  in  from 
the  lawn,  and  maybe  you  can  make  yours  do  for 
to-night.  As  for  the  coat,  I'll  bring  down  one  of 
uncle's  that's  too  small  for  him,  and  you  won't  look 
so  very  ridiculous,  after  all." 

My  headgear,  when  recovered,  bore  evidence  that 
it  had  been  worn  on  a  militant  heel ;  but  when  I  had 
brought  the  torn  edges  together,  I  flattered  myself 
that  in  the  darkness  it  would  look  almost  as  good  as 
new.  And  although  the  coat  hung  loosely  upon 
me,  and  the  stains  of  battle  refused  to  yield  to  the 
brush,  I  was  consoled  by  the  thought  that  these  de- 
partures from  the  rules  of  polite  dress  would  add 
corroborative  details  and  a  livelier  interest  to  my 
tale  of  Wharton  Kendrick's  undoing. 

"Now,  leave  that  bandage  alone,"  commanded 
Miss  Laura,  as  I  raised  my  hand  to  complete  my 
toilet  by  removing  that  badge  of  battle.  "You  have 
to  wear  it.  And  you  have  no  idea  how  becoming  it 
looks." 

I  submitted  ruefully  to  this  edict  of  petticoat 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     289 

tyranny,  and  Miss  Kendrick  rewarded  me  by  escort- 
ing me  to  the  door.  She  gave  me  her  hand,  and  there 
was  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  was  near  to  carrying  me 
off  my  feet  as  she  said  with  the  suspicion  of  a  trem- 
ble in  her  voice : 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  we  are  not  appreciating 
what  you  have  done — and  are  doing." 

"It  is  nothing,"  I  said,  looking  into  the  magnetic 
depths  of  her  eyes,  until  she  dropped  her  glance  to 
the  floor,  and  blushed  divinely. 

"It  is  nothing,"  I  repeated.  Then  bending,  I 
touched  my  lips  to  her  hand,  and  with  no  other 
word  ran  down  the  steps  in  a  tumult  of  elation. 

The  Coleman  house  was  alight  as  I  rang  the  bell, 
and  William  T.  Coleman  himself  appeared  close  on 
the  heels  of  the  suspicious  servant  who  took  in  my 
card.  He  was  able  to  recall  the  circumstances  of 
our  introduction  as  he  gave  me  a  cordial  greeting 
and  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"I  was  in  hopes  Kendrick  would  come  himself," 
he  said ;  "but  as  he  hasn't,  I  am  glad  he  sent  you." 

"Mr.  Kendrick  didn't  come  because  he  couldn't 
come.  He  was  badly  hurt  in  to-night's  riot." 

"Kendrick  hurt?  How  badly?" 

I  described  the  extent  of  his  injuries  as  well  as 
I  could,  and  Coleman's  eyes  took  on  a  troubled  look. 

"I  wanted  to  consult  him  about  affairs.  A  num- 
ber of  our  leading  men  have  been  here  this  evening, 
and  General  McComb  has  agreed  to  issue  a  call  for 
a  citizens'  meeting  at  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  to- 
morrow afternoon.  We  must  devise  some  way  to 


2QO         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

assist  the  authorities,  and  I  looked  to  Kendrick  to 
take  a  leading  part." 

"It  will  be  some  days  before  he  can  be  out.  But 
he  is  very  anxious  about  the  state  of  business.  He  is 
afraid  there  will  be  a  smash  in  the  markets  to-mor- 
row." 

William  T.  Coleman  smiled,  and  the  calm  sense 
of  power  that  shone  in  his  eyes  gave  me  renewed 
courage. 

"Kendrick  was  always  one  of  the  men  who  think 
that  nothing  will  be  done  if  they  don't  attend  to  it 
themselves,"  he  said  with  good-natured  raillery. 

"Well,  it's  usually  true,  isn't  it  ?  Most  things  don't 
get  done." 

"A  very  just  observation,  Mr.  Hampden.  Most 
things  don't  get  done.  The  man  who  has  the  brains 
and  will  to  accomplish  things  is  the  invaluable  man. 
It's  our  main  trouble  in  every  branch  of  the  world's 
work — to  find  the  man  with  ideas  and  the  force  to 
carry  them  out.  But  we  must  show  Kendrick  that  he 
isn't  indispensable  in  this  crisis.  Did  he  explain  to 
you  the  state  of  affairs?" 

"No.  He  could  only  refer  me  to  you  for  details. 
He  gave  me  the  authorization  to  represent  him  in  the 
syndicate,  and  in  his  business  generally.  It  was  all 
he  was  able  to  do." 

"Well,  the  syndicate  brought  together  a  capital  of 
ten  million — I  suppose  you  know  that." 

"Yes,  but  I  believe  it  was  heavily  drawn  on  in  the 
raid  of  last  month." 

"We  had  to  put  out  close  to  three  million  six 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     291 

hundred  thousand  of  loans  that  day,  but  some  of  it 
has  come  back  since." 

"Then  the  syndicate  must  have  between  six  and 
seven  million  at  its  disposal." 

"Over  seven,  I  think.  Kendrick  could  give  you 
the  figures  out  of  his  head — that  is,  before  his  head 
was  broken — but  I'll  have  to  get  them  from  my  mem- 
oranda." 

"How  long  do  you  expect  that  to  last  in  a  storm  ?" 

"It  ought  to  see  us  through  any  crisis  that  can 
arise." 

"But  this  is  a  more  serious  occasion  than  the 
other.  See  our  riots,  and  the  explosion  of  violence 
in  the  East.  Will  not  these  frighten  our  business 
men  far  more  than  the  rumors  that  set  off  the  hub- 
bub of  last  month  ?" 

Coleman  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  his  face  express- 
ing confident  cheerfulness,  and  his  eyes  magnetic 
with  power. 

"Very  true,"  he  said.  "But  on  the  other  hand,  the 
flurry  of  last  month  shook  out  the  weaklings.  Stocks 
and  bonds  are  shifted  into  strong  hands.  Doubtful 
accounts  have  been  closed  out.  We  are  in  much 
better  shape  than  before  the  squall  struck  us." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  I  said  with  some  relief, 
though  the  thought  of  Peter  Bolton's  malign  activi- 
ties weighed  on  my  mind,  and  I  was  tempted  to 
confide  in  William  T.  Coleman.  But  as  Wharton 
Kendrick  had  kept  the  matter  to  himself,  I  followed 
his  example,  and  continued :  "I  believe  the  interests 
of  Mr.  Kendrick  can  best  be  served  by  sustaining 


292         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

the  markets  and  preventing  failures.  But  as  to  de- 
tails, I  should  like  your  advice." 

"Well,  I  will  read  you  the  memorandum  made  at 
our  meeting  of  the  other  night  of  the  men  and  firms 
who  are  likely  to  need  help,  and  the  amounts  it 
would  probably  be  safe  to  lend  them."  And  Mr. 
Coleman  brought  a  sheet  of  paper  from  his  desk 
and  interpreted  the  cabalistic  signs  that  covered  it. 
The  freedom  with  which  the  names  of  banks,  busi- 
ness houses  and  individuals  had  been  handled  would 
have  created  a  sensation  if  the  paper  had  been  pub- 
lished. "And  here  is  a  list  of  the  men  who  have  had 
advances,"  he  said,  taking  out  another  sheet  and 
reading  off  names  and  figures. 

I  noted  down  the  list  for  reference  and  study. 

"Do  you  think,"  asked  Coleman,  "that  Kendrick 
will  be  able  to  get  down  to-morrow  ?" 

"No,  the  doctor  said  it  would  be  impossible." 

"That  is  very  awkward.  The  syndicate's  money  is 
deposited  in  his  name,  and  he  is  the  man  to  sign  our 
Checks." 

I  saw  the  advantage  of  keeping  this  power  in 
Wharton  Kendrick's  hands,  and  suggested : 

"Possibly  he  can  attend  to  that  part  of  the  busi- 
ness at  the  house.  I  can  have  a  line  of  messengers 
to  carry  the  checks  back  and  forth." 

Coleman  wrinkled  his  brows,  and  gave  his  head  a 
forceful  shake. 

"That  won't  do.  The  arrangement  would  lose  us 
forty  minutes  on  every  transaction.  You  had  better 
get  Kendrick  to  make  out  a  check  for  the  whole 


I    BECOME   A   BUSINESS    MAN     293 

amount  in  favor  of  Nelson,  and  Nelson  will  look  out 
for  the  details." 

I  was  far  from  satisfied  that  this  was  the  best  way 
out  of  the  difficulty.  It  eliminated  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  as  a  factor  in  the  operations  of  the  syndicate, 
and  I  had  a  vague  but  controlling  feeling  that  this 
would  fit  badly  with  his  plans.  But  I  could  give 
no  sound  reason  for  dissent  from  the  suggestion,  and 
at  last  Coleman  said : 

"Go  to  Kendrick,  and  ask  him  for  the  check.  I'll 
have  Nelson  and  Partridge  here  by  the  time  you  get 
back,  and  we  can  talk  the  business  over  more  fully." 

The  Kendrick  house  was  bright  with  lights  as  I 
reached  it,  and  I  was  more  annoyed  than  pleased  to 
find  Mr.  Baldwin  busily  assisting  Miss  Kendrick, 
and  directing  the  servants  in  the  work  of  clearing 
up  the  broken  glass  and  securing  the  open  windows 
with  boards. 

Mr.  Baldwin  recognized  me  in  his  most  superior 
way,  and  assumed  his  most  magnificent  airs  of  pro- 
prietorship from  the  top  of  the  ladder,  as  he  waved 
a  hammer  as  his  baton  of  command. 

"Ah,  Hampden,"  he  said  with  a  cool  nod,  "this 
is  a  fine  mess  your  friends  have  made  of  things." 

"Gracious,  me!"  exclaimed  Miss  Kendrick.  "Is 
that  the  way  friends  act?  I've  seen  men  play  some 
pretty  rough  pranks  in  the  name  of  friendship,  but 
I'm  sure  I  never  knew  them  to  go  so  far  as  they  did 
with  Mr.  Hampden.  It's  a  mercy  he  wasn't  killed. 
You  should  have  seen  him  when  he  came  in  from  the 
fracas !" 


294          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Mr.  Baldwin  appeared  to  be  put  out  of  counte- 
nance by  this  railing  acknowledgment  of  my  share 
in  the  defense  of  the  house,  and  I  judged  by  his  tone 
that  he  considered  it  a  reflection  on  him  for  being 
absent  in  the  crisis. 

"I  had  been  out  of  town,"  he  said  stiffly,  appar- 
ently for  my  enlightenment,  "and  got  in  on  the  eight 
o'clock  boat.  Later  I  heard  that  your  friends  were 
on  the  war-path,  and  threatening  to  burn  Nob  Hill 
and  Van  Ness  Avenue.  Then  I  came  up  here  to  see 
if  I  could  be  of  service,  and  found  that  it  was  all 
over — except  the  repairs."  And  with  this  attempt 
to  set  himself  right,  he  resumed  his  air  of  impor- 
tance. 

"Well,  it's  very  lucky  you  weren't  here,"  said 
Miss  Kendrick.  "I  don't  doubt  you  would  have  got 
your  head  broken,  and  you'd  never  be  able  to  stand 
up  on  that  ladder  if  it  was  going  around  the  way  Mr. 
Hampden's  is.  Oh,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "what  have 
you  done  with  that  bandage  I  put  over  your  bump?" 

"It  came  off,"  I  said  weakly,  bringing  the  damp 
and  offending  rag  out  of  my  pocket. 

"I  believe  you  took  it  off,"  she  said  with  an  air  of 
reprimand. 

"You  can  put  it  on  again,"  I  pleaded  with  meek 
submission. 

"No — it  can  stay  off,"  she  said.  "You're  getting 
on  entirely  too  well  to  be  fussed  over  any  more. 
And  now  if  you'll  go  in  and  see  uncle,  I'll  be  obliged. 
He  has  been  dozing,  but  he  comes  to  with  a  start 
every  few  minutes  and  asks  for  you.  I'm  hoping  you 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     295 

can  quiet  his  mind,  for  his  worry  isn't  at  all  good 
for  him."  And  her  voice  quivered  with  a  pathetic 
note  of  affectionate  anxiety. 

Wharton  Kendrick  lay  on  the  couch  with  his  eyes 
closed,  but  opened  them  vacantly  as  I  came  in. 
Mercy  Fillmore  sat  by  his  side.  He  collected  himself 
with  an  effort,  and  said : 

"I've  been  wanting  you,  Hampden !  What  was  it 
you  were  to  see  about  ?  Some  business,  wasn't  it  ?" 
His  eyes  wandered,  as  though  he  were  seeking  for 
some  lost  thread  of  memory. 

I  gave  him  a  condensed  account  of  my  visit  to 
William  T.  Coleman.  He  heard  me  listlessly  until 
I  came  to  the  request  to  make  out  a  check  for  the 
syndicate's  balance  in  favor  of  Nelson.  Then  he 
started  violently,  and  half  raised  himself. 

"I'll  see  'em  damned  first!"  he  cried.  "How  can 
I  protect  myself  if  the  money  is  turned  over  to  Nel- 
son?" He  looked  about  wildly,  fiercely;  then  sank 
back  and  closed  his  eyes. 

Mercy  Fillmore  shook  her  head  at  me,  and  her 
eyes  expressed  reproach. 

"You  are  exciting  him,"  she  whispered.  "Isn't 
this  business  something  that  can  be  put  off  ?" 

He  heard  her  and  answered : 

"No,  it  can't  be  put  off.  There'll  be  a  smash  in 
the  market  in  the  morning,  and  I  shan't  be  there  to 
stop  it!"  He  had  begun  with  energy,  but  his  voice 
trailed  off  into  a  querulous  tone  as  he  added  :  "What 
shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?"  Then  suddenly  a  look 
of  resolution  came  into  his  face.  "Bring  me  my 


296         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

check-book,"  he  cried  with  feverish  impatience. 
"There's  one  in  that  coat  pocket.  Be  quick  about  it !" 

The  book  was  produced,  and  after  looking  at  it 
helplessly  for  a  little  he  handed  it  back  to  me.  Then 
he  seemed  to  collect  his  faculties  and  asked : 

"What  was  the  balance  ?  Why  can't  I  remember  ?" 

I  read  the  figures  from  the  memorandum  Mr. 
Coleman  had  given  me. 

"Seven  million  three  hundred  and  twenty  thou- 
sand," he  repeated.  "Well,  make  out  a  check  to 
yourself  for  that  amount.  Now  help  me  up  while  I 
sign  it.  What  are  you  waiting  for?  Give  me  that 
pen." 

I  was  somewhat  dashed  by  the  responsibility  that 
was  being  thrust  upon  me,  but  I  could  think  of  no 
better  course.  So  we  propped  him  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture, and  he  signed  his  name  somewhat  unsteadily  to 
the  check. 

"Now  take  it,  Hampden,"  he  said.  "You  won't 
see  me  go  down,  will  you  ?  Look  out  for  my  inter- 
ests. They're  yours,  Hampden.  Stand  by  me  this 
time,  and  I'll  stand  by  you  always."  His  voice 
trailed  off  into  indistinctness  as  we  laid  him  back  on 
the  pillow,  and  after  a  struggle  to  speak,  his  face 
flushed  a  startling  red,  he  mumbled  a  few  incoherent 
sounds,  and  was  lost  to  his  surroundings. 

Mercy  Fillmore  uttered  a  cry  at  this  sudden 
change. 

"Oh,  I  wish  Doctor  Roberts  was  back !" 

"Here  is  Doctor  Roberts,"  said  the  quiet  profes- 
sional voice,  as  the  physician  entered  the  room  and 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     297 

stepped  to  his  patient's  side.  "No  more  business  to- 
night," he  continued  sharply.  "I  am  afraid  there 
will  be  no  more  for  many  days.  I  must  ask  you  to 
retire,  Mr.  Hampden ;  the  atmosphere  is  too  exciting 
for  Mr.  Kendrick." 

I  denied  myself  the  pleasure  of  interrupting  Mr. 
Baldwin's  conversation,  as  I  went  out,  and  hastened 
to  the  Coleman  house. 

Partridge  and  Nelson  had  already  arrived,  and  I 
found  them  earnestly  discussing  the  situation  with 
Mr.  Coleman.  They  greeted  me  with  condescension, 
inquired  civilly  of  the  condition  of  Wharton  Ken- 
drick, and  warmly  expressed  their  indignation 
against  the  mob. 

"Was  Kendrick  able  to  sign  the  check  to  Nelson?" 
asked  Coleman,  coming  abruptly  to  the  matter  of 
business. 

I  explained,  as  diplomatically  as  I  was  able,  the 
arrangement  my  client  had  made. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Nelson,  "it  is  very  easily  set- 
tled. All  you  have  to  do  is  to  indorse  the  check  over 
to  me."  And  he  looked  at  me  with  the  self-satisfied 
air  of  the  business  man  whose  word  is  law  to  his 
employees. 

The  calm  assumption  that  I  was  to  be  eliminated 
from  the  proceedings  without  so  much  as  saying 
"by  your  leave,"  roused  my  combative  instincts,  and 
it  was  only  by  drawing  a  firm  rein  on  my  temper  that 
I  was  able  to  reply  calmly : 

"I  do  not  think  I  am  justified  by  my  instructions 
to  take  such  a  step." 


298         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do,  then?"  asked  Part- 
ridge shortly. 

The  tone  in  which  the  question  was  put  added  fire 
to  my  resentment,  and  I  replied  with  emphasis : 

"I  shall  be  guided  by  the  wishes  of  my  client, 
and  where  he  has  not  expressed  a  wish,  I  shall  fol- 
low my  own  judgment." 

Partridge  and  Nelson  looked  at  each  other. 

"I  think  I  shall  go  and  see  Kendrick,"  said  Part- 
ridge. 

"Mr.  Kendrick  is  in  a  stupor,  and  the  doctor 
would  not  permit  him  to  be  seen,  even  if  he  could  be 
roused,"  I  replied. 

"This  is  very  awkward,"  said  Nelson,  drumming 
on  the  table  with  his  fingers. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Coleman,  in  calm  and  tactful 
voice.  "Mr.  Hampden  has  the  money  that  was  in- 
trusted to  Kendrick.  He  has  Kendrick's  power  of 
attorney.  For  all  practical  purposes  he  is  Kendrick. 
He  will  sign  the  checks  just  as  Kendrick  would  have 
signed  them.  Is  not  that  your  idea,  Mr.  Hampden  ?" 

"You  have  stated  exactly  my  understanding  of 
my  instructions,  Mr.  Coleman.  I  am  ready  to  sign 
any  checks  that  Mr.  Kendrick  would  sign  if  he  were 
here." 

Partridge  nodded  his  assent  to  this  construction  of 
my  orders,  but  Nelson  still  looked  sourly  at  me. 

"What  checks  do  you  think  he  would  sign  ?"  asked 
Nelson. 

"Why,  in  general,  I  should  say  that  they  would 
be  any  that  are  approved  by  you  three  gentlemen." 


I    BECOME   A    BUSINESS    MAN     299 

Nelson's  face  cleared  and  he  stopped  drumming  on 
the  table. 

"That  is  satisfactory,"  he  said.  "Then  we  had 
better  make  our  headquarters  again  in  Mr.  Ken- 
drick's  office.  It  is  the  most  central  location.  We 
shall  be  there  a  little  before  ten  o'clock." 

"You  had  better  see  the  bank  about  transferring 
the  money  to  your  account  before  the  opening,"  said 
Partridge,  as  we  rose  to  go.  "When  the  fun  begins, 
you'll  have  no  time  to  waste." 


CHAPTER  XXITl 

THE   COMMITTEE   OF  SAFETY 

I  came  out  of  the  bank  from  my  morning  visit  in 
a  daze  of  emotions.  The  street  was  thronged  with 
hurrying  crowds.  The  air  was  electric  with  the  ten- 
sion of  social  storm.  The  echoes  of  the  mob's  out- 
burst could  be  heard  in  the  indignant  comments  that 
passed  from  mouth  to  mouth;  the  fears  that  it  in- 
spired could  be  read  in  the  tense  lines  that  it  had 
written  on  men's  faces.  But  it  was  all  one  to  me. 
I  saw  and  I  saw  not.  I  heard  and  I  heard  not.  I 
walked  the  street  stunned,  overwhelmed  with  the 
conviction  that  an  irreparable  blunder  had  snatched 
the  control  of  events  from  my  hands,  and  doomed 
Wharton  Kendrick  to  swift  and  certain  ruin. 

I  had  found  the  president  of  the  Golconda  Bank 
in  his  private  office  at  a  few  minutes  after  nine 
o'clock,  and  Wharton  Kendrick's  card  had  secured 
me  prompt  admission.  I  had  known  the  president 
slightly  for  several  years,  and  he  received  me  with 
brusk  kindness  as  I  stated  my  errand  and  exhibited 
my  credentials. 

"Oh,  we'll  arrange  that  for  you  in  two  minutes," 
he  said,  after  he  had  examined  my  papers,  and 
questioned  me  on  Wharton  Kendrick's  condition. 
"Just  indorse  that  check,  and  I'll  have  the  account 
put  in  your  name." 

300 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    301 

When  he  had  sent  his  messenger  to  the  cashier 
with  his  directions,  he  continued : 

"That  is  a  heavy  responsibility  you  have  on  your 
shoulders  to-day.  There  is  plenty  of  trouble  ahead. 
We  look  to  the  syndicate  to  do  the  work  of  a  com- 
mercial fire-patrol."  And  he  favored  me  with  a  few 
words  of  advice  for  which  I  professed  myself  grate- 
ful. He  was  still  giving  counsel,  when  the  cashier 
reappeared  with  a  troubled  face. 

"There's  something  wrong  about  this,"  he  said, 
laying  my  check  before  the  president. 

"That  is  Kendrick's  signature,"  said  the  president, 
scrutinizing  it  once  more. 

"But  look  at  the  figures/'  urged  the  cashier. 

"Seven  million  three  hundred  and  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars?" 

"Yes ;  but  there  is  only  six  million  eight  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  in  the  special  account  on  which 
this  check  is  drawn." 

The  president  drew  his  lips  into  a  whistle,  and 
then  said : 

"Well,  we  can't  do  anything  with  it,  you  see. 
You'll  have  to  go  back  to  Kendrick  and  get  him  to 
correct  it." 

If  I  had  been  as  wise  at  the  moment  as  I  became 
by  subsequent  reflection  I  should  have  summoned 
all  my  powers  of  eloquence  to  convince  him  that  the 
safety  of  the  bank  as  a  part  of  the  commercial  struct- 
ure of  the  city  lay  in  getting  that  fund  promptly  re- 
leased for  use  in  the  coming  crisis.  The  arguments 
with  which  I  could  have  supported  such  a  thesis 


302         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

came  to  me  in  abundance  a  day  later.  But  at  the  mo- 
ment I  was  stricken  dumb  and  my  wits  were  scat- 
tered by  the  thought  that  Wharton  Kendrick  had 
used  for  his  own  purposes  a  half-million  dollars  of 
the  syndicate's  money,  and  was  to  be  dishonored 
before  the  world. 

Before  I  could  recover  myself  the  president  had 
bowed  me  out  of  his  room,  and  I  was  mechanically 
guided  by  my  subconscious  self  to  Wharton  Ken- 
drick's  office.  In  my  bewilderment  I  came  into  col- 
lision with  a  man  who  stood  by  the  door,  and  begged 
his  pardon  without  getting  an  impression  of  his  per- 
sonality. 

"Why,  God  bless  my  soul,  Hampden !  What's  the 
matter  with  you  ?  You  run  over  a  man  without  even 
the  politeness  to  call  out  'Hi  there!'  and  then  you 
look  at  him  as  though  it  was  the  first  time  you'd 
ever  set  eyes  on  him.  Is  this  the  day  you  pick  out 
to  send  your  wits  a- wool-gathering  ?  Where's  Ken- 
drick ?  I  see  by  the  papers  there  was  a  row  up  at  his 
house  last  night,  and  he  got  a  nasty  knock  on  the 
head." 

It  was  General  Wilson,  looking  more  fiery  and 
self-important  than  ever. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  continued,  slapping  me 
jovially  on  the  back.  "Is  Kendrick  worse  hurt  than 
the  papers  say?  You  look  as  though  the  bank  had 
broken." 

I  told  the  general  of  the  assault  on  Kendrick 
and  of  his  perilous  condition,  and  the  general  puffed 
out  his  red  cheeks,  blew  out  his  breath  with  a  noise 


THE   COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    303 

like  a  porpoise,  and  cursed  the  mob  with  a  heartiness 
and  good  will  that  was  inspiring. 

"Put  me  in  charge  of  this  town  for  twenty-four 
hours,  and  I'd  hang  every  mother's  son  of  those 
agitators  higher  than  Haman,"  said  the  general, 
when  the  ready  stock  of  curses  ran  out.  "That's  the 
way  to  deal  with  'em.  But  cheer  up !  Kendrick  will 
be  all  right  in  a  few  days." 

I  felt  an  inward  shrinking  from  telling  General 
Wilson  the  rest  of  the  woeful  truth.  But  the  truth 
would  be  the  property  of  the  street  within  an  hour, 
and  it  could  not  be  made  worse  by  trusting  it  to  even 
so  garrulous  a  confidant  as  he.  Perhaps  I  had  a  faint 
hope  that  the  old  campaigner  might  make  a  sugges- 
tion that  would  help  me  out  of  my  difficulties;  but 
the  overmastering  thought  in  my  mind  was  that  I 
held  the  position  of  a  conductor  of  a  runaway  train 
that  was  plunging  down  a  mountain  grade  to  certain 
wreck,  and  it  did  not  matter  what  I  did  or  said.  So 
taking  the  general  into  Wharton  Kendrick's  office,  I 
told  him  my  tale  of  the  dishonored  check. 

He  took  it  more  calmly  than  I  had  expected. 
"How  much  did  you  say  he's  overdrawn  ?"  he  asked 
in  businesslike  tones. 

"Five  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"That  was  the  deuce  of  a  mistake  for  Kendrick  to 
make.  Can't  you  get  him  to  correct  it?" 

I  groaned  out  a  miserable  negative. 

"I  left  there  at  half-past  eight  this  morning,"  I 
returned,  "and  he  hadn't  come  out  of  the  stupor  that 
I  left  him  in  last  night." 


304         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

General  Wilson  drew  a  prolonged  whistle,  and 
looked  grave.  Then  he  said  : 

"There's  just  one  thing  to  do.  Get  some  of  Ken- 
drick's  friends  to  advance  the  half-million.  Deposit 
it  to  his  account.  Then  the  bank  will  pay  your  check. 
Then  you'll  have  the  money,  and  can  pay  back  the 
advance  inside  of  one  minute." 

"Half  a  million  is  a  big  sum,"  I  said  doubtingly. 
"I  don't  know  anybody  who  will  put  that  up  at  short 
notice." 

General  Wilson  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair 
with  an  air  of  marvelous  self-importance. 

"Hang  it,  man!"  he  cried.  "Why  don't  you  ask 
me?  You  don't  suppose  that  General  Wilson  would 
let  his  friend  Kendrick  go  to  the  wall  for  want  of  a 
trifling  favor  like  that,  do  you  ?  I've  a  notion  to  be 
insulted  at  not  being  asked — hang  me  if  I  haven't!" 

I  grasped  his  hand,  and  expressed  my  opinion  of 
his  offer  in  dumb  show.  There  was  a  painful  task 
before  me,  however,  and  as  it  could  not  be  postponed, 
I  hastened  to  perform  it. 

"You're  a  trump,  General  Wilson,  but  I  can't 
take  up  with  your  offer." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because,"  I  said  slowly,  "I  can't  pay  back  the 
five  hundred  thousand  if  you  advance  it." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  General  Wilson 
in  bewilderment. 

"Well,  I  am  afraid  that  the  figures  on  the  check 
are  correct." 

"Correct?  How's  that?" 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    305 

"They  are  the  figures  of  the  balance  of  the  syndi- 
cate's fund  deposited  in  Wharton  Kendrick's  hands. 
They  show  the  amount  of  money  that  ought  to  be  in 
the  bank— and  it  isn't  there." 

General  Wilson  drew  another  long  whistle,  and 
his  face  suddenly  became  grave  again. 

"Then  he  has  used  half  a  million  of  the  syndi- 
cate's money?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"What  in  the  name  of  common  sense  did  he  do 
that  for  ?"  demanded  the  general  irritably. 

"I  suppose  he  was  sure  he  could  make  it  up  when 
the  time  came,"  I  said  in  feeble  defense. 

"They  always  are,"  said  the  general  grimly. 

"Oh,  I  have  no  doubt  he  had  everything  calcu- 
lated out  to  the  last  dollar,"  I  returned.  "The  only 
thing  he  didn't  calculate  on  was  this  knock  on  the 
head.  If  he  was  on  his  feet  he  would  have  the  money 
in  five  minutes." 

"Well,  I  suppose  he  would,"  said  the  general. 
"But  he  isn't  on  his  feet,  and  what's  the  result  ?" 

"The  result  is  smash,"  said  I  with  grim  despair. 
"Partridge,  Nelson  and  Coleman  will  be  here  in- 
side of  twenty  minutes.  When  they  set  foot  inside 
that  door,  Wharton  Kendrick  had  better  be  dead." 

General  Wilson  studied  vacancy  for  a  minute. 
Then  he  said  slowly : 

"You  said  you  got  a  power  of  attorney  out  of 
Kendrick,  didn't  you  ?" 

I  handed  him  the  paper  I  had  drawn  and  Wharton 
Kendrick  had  signed. 


306         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

He  studied  it  carefully,  and  then  nodded  his  head 
as  though  it  met  his  approval.  At  last  he  said : 

"Well,  then,  there's  a  way  out.  I  was  coming  in 
this  morning  to  put  through  that  swamp-land  deal. 
Why,  you  were  at  Kendrick's  on  Sunday  when  I  told 
him  that  he  was  going  to  accept  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand for  that  land,  and  he  hemmed  and  hawed,  and 
told  me  to  come  in  this  morning.  Of  course  I  could 
see  in  his  eye  that  he  was  going  to  take  me  up,  but 
he  was  playing  coy.  Now  I'll  make  you  the  offer  I 
would  make  him  if  he  was  here.  I'll  pay  you  five 
hundred  thousand  down,  balance  in  thirty  days,  or 
when  deed  passes."  He  looked  at  me  with  a  mixture 
of  business  shrewdness  and  bluff  friendship. 

"I'll  take  the  responsibility  of  accepting  that  of- 
fer," I  said  promptly.  And  General  Wilson  drew  his 
check  and  scribbled  a  few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  paper. 

"Here,  sign  this  receipt  and  memorandum  of 
agreement,  and  give  me  that  power  of  attorney ;  I'll 
have  it  recorded,"  he  said.  "Now  take  that  check 
and  get  over  to  the  bank  as  quick  as  the  Lord'll  let 
you.  We'll  make  out  the  contract  in  due  form  this 
afternoon,  and  I'll  get  that  on  record,  too."  Then 
he  chuckled  jovially,  and  gave  me  another  slap  on 
the  back  as  he  added :  "Stick  to  me,  and  I'll  make 
a  Napoleon  of  Finance  out  of  you  yet,  Hampden." 

Until  I  felt  the  sudden  rebound  of  my  spirits  when 
I  saw  the  check  in  my  hand,  I  did  not  realize  how 
horribly  I  had  been  scared.  I  was  in  a  position  to 
appreciate  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  felt  his  house 
tumbling  about  his  ears  in  a  mighty  earthquake,  and 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    307 

had  waked  to  find  it  only  a  nightmare.  But  I  thanked 
General  Wilson  calmly,  and  rushed  hurriedly  over 
to  the  bank.  I  had  small  difficulty  in  impressing  the 
president  with  the  importance  of  haste ;  and  the  ac- 
count was  cleared  and  entered  in  my  name  before 
the  opening  hour. 

As  I  returned  to  the  office  I  met  William  T.  Cole- 
man  coming  away.  His  face  was  calm  with  resolute 
strength,  and  his  eyes  carried  the  magnetic  inspira- 
tion of  courage. 

"I  just  looked  in  to  tell  you  that  I  can't  sit  with 
your  committee  for  an  hour  or  two,"  he  said.  "I 
have  some  other  irons  in  the  fire ;  but  I'll  be  in  later. 
Partridge  and  Nelson  are  there  now,  and  whatever 
they  approve  will  be  satisfactory  to  me.  If  you  get 
at  loggerheads,  send  for  me,  and  I'll  come." 

His  manner  more  than  his  words  put  me  in  heart 
with  the  assurance  that  I  should  not  have  to  stand 
alone  in  battle,  and  I  hastened  with  fresh  confidence 
to  take  my  place  in  the  council. 

"They're  hammering  things  pretty  hard  on  the 
exchanges,"  said  Partridge  after  greetings  had  been 
made.  "Prices  are  holding  up  well,  so  far,  but  I 
guess  we'll  have  to  put  a  brace  under  some  of  those 
fellows  inside  of  half  an  hour."  And  with  a  clouded 
brow  he  studied  the  strip  that  came  from  the  ticker. 

"Carey  and  Son  are  shaky,"  said  Nelson.  "So  are 
Benbow  and  Johnson,  and  a  dozen  others.  And 
worst  of  all  we've  got  to  put  some  more  coin  into 
those  confounded  banks." 

"It's  like  throwing  the  money  away,"  groaned 


308         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Partridge.  "They  can't  put  up  collateral  that  a 
gambler  would  look  at." 

Nelson  adjusted  his  gold-rimmed  eye-glasses  to 
look  at  his  list  of  suspects,  and  gave  his  head  a  shake. 

"Well,  we've  got  to  keep  them  afloat  till  these 
troubles  are  over,"  he  said  with  decision. 

"And  the  infernal  part  of  it  is,"  said  Partridge, 
"that  those  fellows  know  it.  I'd  give  a  thousand  dol- 
lars out  of  my  own  pocket,  if  we  could  let  them  drop 
without  hurting  any  one  else."  And  he  resumed  his 
study  of  the  ticker  with  an  irritated  face. 

The  noise  of  the  shouting  crowds  that  filled  and 
surrounded  the  exchanges  floated  up  through  the 
windows,  rising  and  falling  like  the  roar  of  ocean 
breakers.  There  was  a  curious  variation  of  quality 
in  the  swelling  volumes  of  sound.  Now  it  expressed 
apprehension ;  now  desperation ;  and  again  there  was 
the  tonic  roar  of  exultation  rising  above  the  lesser 
cries. 

We  had  not  been  in  consultation  ten  minutes  when 
the  first  application  for  support  came  from  a  pale 
but  assertive  man  who  tried  to  conceal  his  despera- 
tion under  an  air  of  bluster. 

"Manning,  of  Smith  and  Manning/'  whispered 
Nelson  to  me,  as  the  man  entered  the  door. 

He  began  to  explain  his  business  in  roundabout 
phrase. 

"Never  mind  that,  Manning,"  said  Partridge. 
"You're  in  the  door,  and  you'll  be  squeezed  if  we 
don't  help  you.  That's  the  long  and  short  of  it.  How 
much  are  you  in  for,  and  what  security  can  you 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    309 

offer?  Let's  see  those  papers.  They  tell  the  story, 
don't  they  ?" 

Manning  wiped  his  forehead,  with  a  sigh,  and 
looked  relieved  rather  than  hurt  at  Partridge's  ab- 
ruptness. 

"Five  thousand  will  pull  us  through,"  he  gasped. 

"No  it  won't,"  said  Partridge,  running  over  the 
papers.  "Here's  another  note  for  thirty-five  hun- 
dred. Einstein  and  Company  won't  wait.  This  is  a 
pretty  poor  showing.  No  wonder  the  bank  wouldn't 
carry  you  any  longer !" 

"We  can  get  along  all  right  if  we  get  out  of  this 
hole,"  pleaded  Manning. 

"Well,  we'll  take  up  these  two  claims  on  your  note 
for  thirty  days,"  said  Partridge  after  a  telegraphic 
glance  at  Nelson  and  me.  "Sign  here." 

I  made  out  the  checks,  and  Manning,  once  more 
putting  on  his  blustering  air  as  he  would  have  put 
on  an  overcoat,  went  out  to  face  his  enemies. 

From  this  time  on,  there  was  a  steady  stream  of 
applicants,  some  frankly  admitting  their  desperate 
condition,  some  trying  to  conceal  their  fears  under 
an  assumption  of  confidence.  But  whatever  of  pre- 
tense a  man  had  covered  himself  with  to  enter  our 
office  was  ruthlessly  stripped  from  him  as  soon  as  he 
made  his  request  for  money.  For  one  minute  of  the 
day,  at  least,  he  had  to  face  the  truth,  and  to  see 
himself  as  he  was.  I  soon  discovered  that  Partridge's 
judgment  of  commercial  paper  was  quick  and  sure. 
Nelson  and  I  recognized  our  inferiority  and 
promptly  deferred  to  his  opinions.  Only  once  during 


3io         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  day  did  we  overrule  him,  and  in  that  instance  we 
acted  rather  on  an  inspiration  of  mercy  than  on  our 
commercial  judgment. 

"His  paper  is  no  good,  and  he  wouldn't  carry  any- 
body else  with  him  if  he  went  to  the  wall,"  objected 
Partridge,  when  the  man  we  had  insisted  on  saving 
from  ruin  had  gone  out. 

"The  paper  is  bad,"  admitted  Nelson,  "but  the 
man  is  all  right.  I  like  his  looks." 

"Yes,"  I  added,  "we  have  double  the  chance  of 
getting  the  money  back  from  him  that  we  have  of 
getting  it  from  that  fat,  oily-tongued  fellow  who 
stood  us  up  for  twenty  thousand  a  few  minutes  ago." 

I  was  pleased  to  remind  Partridge  of  the  incident  a 
few  months  later  when  our  protege  redeemed  his  ob- 
ligation in  full  at  the  same  time  that  the  oily-tongued 
heavy-weight  compromised  for  thirty  cents  on  the 
dollar. 

But  despite  this  temporary  disagreement  I  was 
none  the  less  ready  to  follow  Partridge's  judgment 
on  the  cases  that  came  before  us.  And  after  the 
cross-questioning  of  the  applicant  was  over,  Nelson 
and  I  rarely  refused  a  nod  of  assent  to  his  inquiring 
glance.  His  comments  ran  something  like  this,  as 
the  stream  of  the  financially  lame,  halt  and  blind 
passed  before  us : 

"That's  all  tommyrot — you  don't  need  the  half  of 
that.  Seven  thousand  will  pull  you  through.  Here ! 
what  do  you  mean  by  coming  to  us?  Any  bank  in 
the  city  would  take  that  collateral.  No.  Not  a  dollar 
unless  you  will  make  over  your  stock  to  Nelson  as 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    311 

trustee.  Here !  you'll  have  to  get  your  brother  to  sign 
that  note.  Take  it  now.  He'll  do  it,  when  you  tell 
him  that  we  won't  touch  it  without.  That  collateral 
is  no  good ;  I  know  you've  got  better.  Don't  waste 
our  time,  unless  you're  willing  to  show  it.  See  here ! 
you'll  need  more  than  that.  What  do  you  mean  by 
telling  us  that  you  owe  only  ten  thousand  when  your 
balance-sheet  here  calls  for  eighteen  ?  Come  now,  do 
you  think  we  are  running  a  charity  soup-house? 
You've  got  unencumbered  real  estate;  raise  your 
money  on  that." 

We  had  been  at  this  work  close  upon  two  hours 
when  William  T.  Coleman  returned.  He  brought  a 
list  of  merchants  who  would  need  assistance,  and  the 
amounts  that  we  might  safely  advance  them. 

"There's  a  very  scary  feeling  outside,"  he  said. 
"There  are  all  sorts  of  rumors  about  plots  to  burn 
the  city,  and  some  men  are  foolish  enough  to  say 
that  San  Francisco  is  going  to  be  worse  than  Pitts- 
burgh." 

"That's  not  impossible,"  said  Nelson. 

"I  know  there  has  been  plenty  of  talk  in  the  anti- 
coolie  clubs  about  burning  the  Pacific  Mail  steam- 
ers," I  said.  "But  I  don't  think  they  will  have  the 
courage  for  it." 

"It's  only  a  question  of  leadership,"  said  Coleman, 
"and  that  may  develop  at  any  minute.  A  mob  is  a 
queer  creature.  You  can't  tell  what  it  will  do.  It  is 
a  coward  by  itself,  but  it  is  often  capable  of  great 
courage  when  it  has  a  leader — sometimes  when  it 
thinks  it  has  a  leader." 


312         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"What  we  need  is  troops,"  said  Nelson.  "I  hope, 
Coleman,  that  you  will  use  your  influence  with  Bry- 
ant and  Governor  Irwin  to  get  the  militia  called  out. 
They  ought  to  ask  for  Federal  troops.  There'll  be 
no  nonsense  where  they  are  stationed.  They  shoot 
to  kill." 

"You  might  bring  your  plans  before  the  citizens' 
meeting  this  afternoon,"  said  Coleman  shortly. 

Partridge  had  been  studying  the  ticker  intently, 
and  now  growled : 

"There's  somebody  raising  the  devil  out  there  in 
the  stock-market.  He's  got  the  El  Dorado  Bank  be- 
hind him  by  the  looks  of  things,  and  he's  whacking 
at  prices  with  a  sledge-hammer." 

The  name  of  this  modern  practitioner  in  the  black 
art  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue,  but  I  kept  it  from 
escaping.  If  Wharton  Kendrick  had  not  revealed  it 
in  the  course  of  the  previous  raid,  it  was  evidently 
my  cue  to  keep  still. 

The  contest  grew  hotter  as  the  day  advanced.  The 
waiting-room  was  filled  with  anxious  men,  and  we 
watched  with  concern  the  growing  total  of  advances 
we  had  been  compelled  to  make.  The  Sundown  Bank 
had  to  be  rescued  twice  from  imminent  failure,  and 
two  other  banks  called  upon  us  for  loans.  We  had 
groaned  at  the  character  of  the  collateral  offered  by 
the  Sundowners,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  We 
had  to  advance  enough  to  keep  their  doors  from  clos- 
ing, or  the  wreck  would  have  begun ;  and  once  under 
way  at  this  troublous  juncture  we  saw  no  limit  to 
the  ruin  ahead.  But  at  last  it  was  over.  Three  o'clock 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    313 

came,  the  banks  closed,  and  rumor  and  fear  could 
only  threaten  of  trouble  to  come. 

"Well,  there's  a  hard  day  gone,"  said  Partridge 
with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"And  another  one  just  beginning,"  said  Coleman 
placidly. 

"How  do  we  stand  now  ?"  asked  Nelson. 

"We  paid  out  three  million  seven  hundred  and 
ninety-eight  thousand,"  I  returned,  glancing  at  the 
figures. 

"That  leaves  us— ?" 

"Three  million  five  hundred  and  twenty-two  thou- 
sand." 

"That  is  too  small  a  margin  for  safety,"  said  Cole- 
man with  decision.  "This  thing  isn't  over  yet.  I 
thought  we  would  have  enough  to  carry  us  through, 
but  I  see  we  must  have  more.  You'll  have  to  get 
out,  Partridge,  and  you,  too,  Nelson,  and  see  what 
can  be  done  in  the  way  of  raising  more  money." 

"I  suppose  it  has  got  to  be  done,"  said  Partridge. 
"We  can't  afford  to  go  broke  now."  And  Nelson 
nodded  assent. 

Coleman  then  turned  to  me:  "It's  time  we  were 
going  over  to  the  citizens'  meeting,"  he  said.  "I've 
promised  to  preside.  We  are  to  meet  in  the  Chamber 
of  Commerce  rooms,  over  here."  And  taking  me  by 
the  arm,  he  led  me  out  of  the  office. 

During  the  stress  of  the  day's  business,  we  had 
come  into  close  relations,  and  I  had  been  more  than 
ever  impressed  with  the  vigorous  sense  of  this  man. 
He  displayed  on  that  small  field  all  the  qualities  of 


3 14         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

leadership  demanded  in  the  management  of  a  nation. 
His  resource  and  calm  strength  of  mind  inspired  me 
with  an  unwonted  warmth  of  admiration,  and  I 
could  even  then  think  only  with  regret  of  the  ruler 
and  statesman  who  had  been  smothered  into  the 
habit  of  a  painstaking  merchant.  The  generous  emo- 
tions of  hero-worship  thrilled  within  me,  and  I  was 
delighted  to  find  that  my  admiration  was  repaid  with 
a  show  of  liking  and  confidence. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  am  apprehensive  about,"  he 
said,  as  we  climbed  the  stairs  to  the  Chamber  of 
Commerce.  "This  meeting  is  a  necessary  thing,  but 
it  seems  to  have  roused  anxiety  rather  than  allayed 
it.  I  hope  that  the  speeches  will  be  of  a  character  to 
inspire  confidence  in  our  ability  to  handle  the  situa- 
tion. If  we  don't  inspire  that  confidence,  we  shall  do 
more  mischief  than  good." 

As  we  entered  the  hall,  we  saw  that  it  was  al- 
ready well  filled  with  the  solid  men  of  the  city. 
Mayor  Bryant  was  there  with  the  chief  of  police. 
General  McComb  nodded  to  me,  and  hastened  to 
speak  to  Coleman.  Members  of  the  state  and  city 
governments,  bankers,  merchants,  and  a  sprinkling 
of  other  classes  of  society  were  to  be  Sreen  in  the 
groups  about  the  room. 

There  was  more  of  cheerful  calmness  about  the 
meeting  than  I  had  expected  to  find.  The  fact  that 
these  men  were  present  was  proof  that  they  felt  the 
emergency  to  be  grave ;  but  their  talk  was  flavored 
with  the  saving  salt  of  American  humor  that  no 
calamity  can  suppress,  and  inspired  by  the  optimistic 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    315 

American  sentiment  that  "it  will  all  come  out  right 
somehow." 

I  had  scarce  found  a  seat  when  General  McComb 
with  his  most  impressive  military  air  called  the  meet- 
ing to  order.  When  the  company  had  been  reduced 
to  silence,  he  continued : 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  sending  out  the  cir- 
culars that  requested  you  to  meet  here  for  the  pur- 
pose of  considering  the  safety  of  the  city.  The 
people  see  in  Monday  night's  outbreak  the  dangers 
that  come  when  the  passions  of  the  mob  are  given 
full  sway.  An  honored  citizen  has  been  struck  down, 
property  has  been  destroyed,  and  threats  of  worse 
things  to  come  are  heard  on  every  side.  In  this 
emergency  we  should  organize  to  give  the  city  the 
protection  essential  to  its  preservation.  We  have 
with  us  a  man  who  has  twice  come  forward  to  lead 
the  loyal  citizens  in  the  task  of  putting  down  the 
lawless  and  criminal  elements  of  the  city.  I  ask  that 
William  T.  Coleman  be  chosen  as  chairman  of  this 
meeting." 

The  response  left  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Coleman  was 
the  assembly's  unanimous  choice.  The  men  who  had 
gathered  there  looked  toward  him  with  as  unques- 
tioning confidence  as  ever  soldiers  looked  to  their 
captain.  And  at  the  shout  that  answered  General  Mc- 
Comb, he  walked  to  the  chair  with  the  assured  step 
of  a  man  accustomed  to  command. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  confidence,"  he  said.  "I 
have  not  thought,  I  do  not  think,  that  there  is  any 
pressing  danger.  But  I  recognize  the  moral  value  of 


316          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

organization  in  times  of  disquiet,  and  I  am  here  to 
assist  in  putting  the  physical  force  of  the  city  at  the 
disposition  of  the  authorities.  I  have  not  seen  any 
need  for  augmenting  the  military  or  police  forces  of 
the  city.  But  General  McComb  and  Mayor  Bryant, 
who  have  had  better  opportunities  than  I  to  observe 
the  situation,  have  thought  differently.  Therefore 
let  us  take  precautions.  The  people  of  this  city  have 
proved  through  many  trials  that  they  are  essentially 
law-abiding.  But  there  is  a  dangerous  element  here 
— an  element  of  lawless  young  men  who  do  not  think 
of  results,  and  who  do  not  shrink  from  violence.  If 
I  had  not  realized  this  fact  before,  I  should  have 
been  forced  to  acknowledge  it  when  one  of  my  clos- 
est friends  fell  a  victim  last  night  to  their  anger. 
But  I  have  full  confidence  in  the  manhood  of  San 
Francisco.  If  the  city  is  threatened  by  a  rising  of  the 
disorderly  elements  I  am  ready  to  assure  the  author- 
ities that  a  force  of  twenty  thousand  men  can  be 
raised,  if  need  be,  for  the  defense  of  our  homes  and 
property." 

A  silence  followed  the  applause  evoked  by  this 
speech.  If  the  speaker  expressed  more  confidence 
than  he  felt,  his  words  accomplished  their  purpose 
of  rousing  the  courage  of  the  assembly  before  him. 
Then  a  mild-faced  man  rose,  and  in  halting  voice 
asked  the  privilege  of  putting  a  question. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  he  began,  "why  are  not  the  con- 
stituted authorities  sufficient  to  cope  with  this  out- 
break? We  have  police.  We  have  a  militia.  They 
are  the  lawful  arm  of  government  to  chastise  the 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    317 

evil-doer.  Why  are  they  not  competent  to  handle 
the  hoodlum  mobs?" 

General  McComb  was  touched  to  the  quick  by  the 
question  thus  put,  and  rose  with  an  air  of  military 
dignity. 

"I  can  answer  for  the  militia,"  he  said  with  some 
asperity.  "There  is  no  more  loyal  and  competent 
body  anywhere  than  the  one  I  have  the  honor  to 
command.  But  the  troops  must  be  supported  by  the 
assurance  that  they  have  the  moral  and  physical 
backing  of  law-abiding  citizens.  That  is  why  I  have 
asked  you  to  meet  us  here.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
would  like  to  hear  from  our  worthy  mayor  on  the 
needs  of  the  city  in  this  emergency." 

Mayor  Bryant  got  to  his  feet  at  this  indirect  ap- 
peal, and  a  much  troubled  mayor  he  appeared.  I 
doubted  not  from  his  expression  that  he  would  have 
welcomed  some  plan  by  which  his  office  might  be 
administered  on  the  model  of  those  German  newspa- 
pers whose  editors  delegate  to  some  hireling  the  re- 
sponsibilities that  lead  to  Icse-majeste  and  the  jail, 
and  pursue  their  way  undisturbed  by  thoughts  of 
consequences. 

"I  approve  the  proposed  organization  of  citizens 
to  cooperate  with  the  municipal  authorities,"  he  be- 
gan in  halting  and  anxious  tones.  "It  will  help  us  to 
keep  the  peace.  But  there  wasn't  so  much  violence 
last  night  as  some  have  thought.  The  body  of  the 
meeting  was  orderly.  The  trouble  came  only  from 
the  hoodlums  who  broke  off  from  it  in  droves  to 
commit  violence.  The  responsible  men  of  the  labor 


318         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

organizations  who  were  present  have  called  on  me 
to  say  that  they  had  no  idea  that  the  hoodlums  would 
take  advantage  of  the  meeting  to  create  disorder." 

Several  military  men  followed  the  mayor  with 
speeches  of  a  fiery  nature,  and  advocated  stern  meas- 
ures to  subdue  the  riotous  elements.  At  these  out- 
bursts of  martial  ardor  I  could  see  Coleman's  mouth 
tighten  imperceptibly  into  lines  of  disapproval  and 
determination.  At  last  his  growing  impatience  could 
be  restrained  no  longer,  and  he  interrupted  a  re- 
splendent militia  colonel  who  was  in  full  flight  of 
an  oration  calling  for  "action  at  once." 

"I  understand  this  subject,"  said  Coleman  with  de- 
cision, "and  you  don't.  This  is  a  matter  that  should 
not  be  discussed  too  fully  or  too  publicly.  But  since 
so  much  has  been  said,  I  will  inform  you,  gentle- 
men, that  you  don't  know  the  mine  you  are  standing 
on.  The  safety  or  destruction  of  the  city  hangs  on 
a  pivot.  There  must  be  more  spirit  shown  by  the 
law-abiding  elements,  or  the  balance  will  turn  to- 
ward destruction.  There  must  be  action,  not  talk. 
I  do  not  want  to  accuse  anybody  of  lethargy,  but  the 
fact  is  there  are  too  many  men  who  call  for  the  sup- 
pression of  disorder,  and  then  go  home  and  leave 
somebody  else  to  attend  to  their  protection.  The 
men  who  most  deserve  protection  are  those  who  are 
ready  to  take  arms  in  their  hands  to  get  it." 

"Well,  what  course  would  you  advise  this  meet- 
ing to  take?"  asked  General  McComb. 

"Organize  at  once,"  said  the  chairman  in  vigor- 
ous tones.  "Appoint  a  central  committee — say  of 


THE    COMMITTEE    OF    SAFETY    319 

twenty- four.  Then  open  rolls  for  men  to  sign,  pledg- 
ing their  persons  and  their  money  to  protect  the 
wives,  children  and  fortunes  that  are  now  at  the 
mercy  of  the  mob." 

This  inspiring  counsel  brought  the  assembly  to  its 
feet.  In  a  tumult  of  enthusiasm  it  was  agreed  that 
the  chairman  should  appoint  the  committee,  and  that 
the  work  of  organization  should  begin  at  once.  It 
was  over  in  another  ten  minutes.  Coleman  named 
the  committee  without  hesitation,  and  after  it  had 
held  a  brief  session  he  announced  that  it  had  re- 
ported in  favor  of  immediate  organization,  and  ad- 
ded: 

"You  are  invited  to  put  your  hands  to  this  instru- 
ment: 

"  'We,  the  undersigned  citizens  of  San  Francisco,  do  hereby 
enroll  ourselves  as  a  General  Committee  of  Safety,  subject  to 
the  requirements  of  the  Special  Committee  of  Twenty-Four, 
of  which  William  T.  Coleman,  Esq.,  is  President,  and  we  do 
hereby  bind  ourselves  to  act  with  the  committee  to  preserve 
the  peace  and  well-being  of  the  city  with  our  money  and 
persons.' 

"You  will  be  given  directions  where  to  assemble, 
and  what  duties  you  are  to  perform.  I  hope  no  able- 
bodied  citizen  will  fail  to  give  us  his  services  and 
support." 

At  a  significant  gesture  from  the  president,  these 
solid  men  of  the  city  crowded  about  the  secretary 
to  sign  their  names,  and  the  Committee  of  Safety 
was  born. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


"You  seem  to  have  done  a  good  day's  work,"  was 
Miss  Kendrick's  comment  on  my  brief  account  of 
the  commercial  struggle,  "and  you'll  make  a  business 
man  yet  if  you  keep  on.  I  wish  you  could  tell  uncle 
about  it,  but  he's  still  unconscious."  And  her  lip 
trembled  at  the  sudden  remembrance  of  Wharton 
Kendrick's  peril,  until  I  thought  for  the  moment  that 
she  was  going  to  burst  into  tears.  But  she  com- 
manded herself,  and  continued  in  steady  voice: 
"And  now  that  you've  done  so  well,  I'll  give  one  of 
those  reward-of-merit  cards  you  used  to  get  in 
school.  It  came  this  afternoon,  and  I'm  dying  to 
know  what's  in  it."  And  she  brought  out  a  letter  ad- 
dressed in  fine  Spencerian  copperplate  script  to  "Mr. 
Hampden,  the  Lawyer  of  Mr.  Kendrick's  House  on 
Van  Ness  Avenue,  San  Francisco." 

I  read  the  address  with  some  wonder,  and  Laura 
Kendrick  continued : 

"Moon  Ying  says  that  funny  little  sign  up  in  the 
corner  is  Big  Sam's  seal ;  but  he  surely  never  wrote 
that  remarkable  address.  I  suppose  it  is  by  one  of 
his  clerks." 

At  this,  I  hastily  opened  the  envelope,  and  found 
within  a  formal  note : 

Kwan  Sam  Suey  requests  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Hampden's 
320 


THE   JUSTICE    OF    BIG    SAM        321 

company,  at  his  office  in  Waverly  Place,  this  evening,  at  as 
early  an  hour  as  convenient. 

I  passed  the  note  over  to  Miss  Kendrick. 

"It  looks  as  though  there  was  going  to  be  a  party," 
she  said,  "or  a  supper  at  the  very  least.  I  hope  you 
won't  overeat — or  worse." 

"Big  Sam  has  never  suggested  such  an  idea  as 
eating  or  drinking,  though  I  don't  put  it  beyond  him. 
But  he  surely  hasn't  picked  out  this  season  of  alarms 
to  give  a  reception.  So  if  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  run 
down  to  his  place.  It  may  be  something  important." 

"Of  course  you  must  go — and  you  must  come 
back,  too.  I'm  sure  I  can't  sleep  till  I  know  what  it's 
about.  I  shall  be  up  most  of  the  night,  and  so  will 
Mercy;  so  you  needn't  have  qualms  about  ringing 
the  bell,  even  if  you  are  later  than  late.  There  will 
be  somebody  to  let  you  in." 

"As  I'd  rather  be  here  than  anywhere  else,  I  shan't 
miss  the  chance  to  come  back,"  I  said  boldly. 

She  ignored  my  words,  and  evaded  my  devouring 
glances,  and  with  a  sage  nod  suggested  that  the 
sooner  I  was  on  my  way,  the  sooner  I  should  have 
a  chance  to  come  back. 

As  I  went  down  the  steps  I  was  stricken  with  a 
jealous  pang  to  see  Mr.  Baldwin  coming  up  with  the 
air  of  a  conquering  army.  He  gave  me  a  cool  "Good 
evening,"  and  then  asked,  in  his  most  superior  man- 
ner, if  I  were  on  my  way  to  stir  my  friends  to  fur- 
ther exertions. 

"I  have  but  one  object  in  life,"  I  returned  in  a 


322          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

confidential  tone,  "and  that  is  to  put  your  particular 
friend  and  client  inside  four  stone  walls  where  he 
can't  do  any  more  harm.  And  you  can  tell  Mr.  Bol- 
ton  so  with  my  compliments,  too." 

From  his  muttered  response,  I  gathered  that  my 
reminder  of  his  connection  with  Peter  Bolton  did 
not  give  him  unalloyed  pleasure,  and  pleased  with 
the  consciousness  that  I  had  given  more  than  I  had 
received  in  the  way  of  irritation,  I  went  my  way  to 
Chinatown. 

There  were  abundant  signs  of  unrest  in  both  the 
white  and  the  yellow  city.  Bands  of  hoodlums  still 
ranged  the  streets,  and  fought  runaway  actions  with 
the  police.  Householders  seemed  in  fear,  and  win- 
dows that  were  customarily  cheerful  with  lights  now 
looked  with  darkened  shades  upon  the  streets. 

Chinatown  was  as  forbidding  as  on  the  night  of 
my  last  visit,  and  such  lights  as  were  to  be  seen 
shone  through  closed  shutters  and  barred  doors. 
But  despite  the  atmosphere  of  sullen  hostility  that 
lay  like  a  fog  upon  the  district,  I  made  my  way 
without  interference  to  Waverly  Place  and  rapped 
on  Big  Sam's  door.  My  name  secured  prompt  admit- 
tance. The  door  was  unbarred  for  a  moment  for 
my  entrance,  and  promptly  barred  once  more,  and  I 
was  led  through  a  crowd  of  sullen,  hostile-faced 
hatchet-men  to  Big  Sam's  reception-hall. 

The  King  of  Chinatown  sat  by  his  desk  in  his 
flowing  robes  of  state,  but  rose  and  offered  me  his 
hand  as  I  entered. 
„    "I  thank  you  for  your  prompt  attention,  Mr. 


THE   JUSTICE    OF    BIG    SAM        323 

Hampden,"  he  said,  motioning  me  courteously  to  a 
high-backed  chair  at  his  side.  I  thought  I  could  de- 
tect a  trace  of  worry  in  his  eyes,  but  his  face  was  as 
impassive  as  ever. 

"I  am  flattered  to  receive  your  invitation." 

"It  is  not  an  idle  one." 

"I  should  be  slow  to  believe  so — especially  after 
the  prompt  fulfilment  of  your  last  prophecy." 

"You  have  the  eye  of  the  reader  of  thoughts," 
said  Big  Sam  with  a  faint  smile.  "You  speak  of  the 
very  point  I  wish  to  ask  about.  I  note  by  the  papers 
that  you  were  attacked — or  Mr.  Kendrick,  to  be  ac- 
curate." 

"Oh,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  share  in  it,"  I 
said  nonchalantly. 

"Hardly  a  matter  for  congratulation,  Mr.  Hamp- 
den. Kindly  let  me  know  what  happened.  Was  it 
by  my  people,  or — " 

He  paused,  and  I  replied : 

"We  were  attacked  in  front  by  the  anti-Chinese 
mob,  three  hundred  or  more  strong,  and  in  the  rear 
by  a  score  or  so  of  ruffians  that  I  have  reason  to  sup- 
pose were  hired  by  your  people." 

"I  should  be  obliged  for  your  reasons." 

"They  are  at  your  service."  And  I  gave  the  ac- 
cumulated facts  from  Little  John's  attempt  to  drag 
away  the  Chinese  girl,  to  Danny  Regan's  identifica- 
tion by  Moon  Ying. 

As  I  set  forth  my  tale,  a  certain  fire  of  rage  kin- 
dled in  Big  Sam's  face  without  disturbing  the  im- 
passivity of  his  features.  He  seemed  to  grow  larger, 


324         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

and  I  could  understand  how  great  monarchs  cause 
men  to  tremble  by  something  more  than  the  physical 
forces  at  their  command.  Some  subtle  force  irradi- 
ated from  the  man,  and  only  a  strong  will  could  re- 
fuse to  yield  to  the  fear  that  he  inspired. 

As  I  ended  my  tale,  he  muttered,  "The  dogs — to 
violate  their  word — to  cross  my  orders — to  risk 
everything  at  this  crisis !" 

Then  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  two  men  appeared, 
and  after  a  few  words  vanished. 

"I  hope  you  will  not  object  if  I  detain  you  for  a 
time,"  said  Big  Sam,  relaxing  something  of  his 
anger. 

"Not  at  all,  if  I  can  be  of  service." 

"You  mean  that  you  would  not  stay  as  a  social 
diversion,"  he  said  with  a  faint  smile.  "Well,  you 
can  be  of  service,  Mr.  Hampden,  and  permit  me  in 
the  interval  to  offer  you  the  hospitalities  that  should 
pass  between  friends."  He  gave  his  hands  another 
clap,  and  in  a  moment  a  servant  entered  bearing  a 
tray  with  a  teapot  and  cups,  and  placed  it  before 
Big  Sam.  My  host  poured  the  tea  as  I  exclaimed  at 
the  beauty  of  the  porcelain  in  the  highly  decorated 
pot  and  the  thin  cups. 

"I  presume  you  prefer  sugar  and  milk,"  said  Big 
Sam,  hesitating. 

If  I  had  possessed  an  insatiable  appetite  for  these 
luxuries,  the  note  of  scorn  in  his  voice  would  have 
forbidden  me  to  confess  it.  But  I  had  been  dealing 
with  Chinese  clients  long  enough,  and  had  drunk  tea 
enough  in  Chinese  fashion,  to  make  it  a  matter  df 


THE   JUSTICE   OF   BIG    SAM        325 

indifference  to  me,  and  I  gave  him  a  cheerful  nega- 
tive. 

"What  an  exquisite  flavor!"  I  exclaimed,  as  I 
sipped  from  the  dainty  cups.  "Where  do  you  get 
such  tea  ?" 

"I  have  it  brought  over  by  a  special  agent.  It  is 
not  such  as  you  can  buy  in  the  stores.  That  you  may 
realize  that  you  do  not  see  all  of  China  in  the  ex- 
ternals we  present  in  San  Francisco,  I  will  remind 
you  that  you  consider  that  you  get  a  very  good  tea 
when  you  pay  two  dollars  a  pound  for  it.  It  is  a 
good  tea.  But  this  that  you  are  drinking  costs  eighty 
dollars  a  pound  in  China.  You  see  we  have  a  few 
luxuries — possibly  some  that  you  would  not  recog- 
nize. This  is  the  tea  of  the  gods,  and  I  am  pleased 
to  see  that  you  do  not  profane  its  flavor."  The  serv- 
ant had  brought  in  another  tray,  and  Big  Sam 
pressed  me  to  eat  of  some  preserved  fish,  which  he 
praised  more  highly  than  I  thought  it  deserved,  and 
a  fowl  deliciously  cooked  with  strange  seasonings, 
ending  with  Chinese  sweetmeats  and  a  dash  of  fine 
Chinese  brandy.  I  ate  without  hesitation,  for  all  my 
suspicion  of  Chinese  dishes,  for  I  could  believe  that 
the  man  who  drank  tea  at  eighty  dollars  a  pound 
would  have  nothing  below  the  best. 

And  as  we  ate,  Big  Sam  questioned  me  with  a 
devouring  curiosity  of  my  views  on  the  relations  of 
China  and  the  United  States,  on  the  future  of  the 
Orient,  on  the  possible  waking  of  China,  on  the  des- 
tiny of  the  races,  on  the  results  of  the  anti-Chinese 
agitation;  and  though  he  gave  little  expression  to 


326         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

his  own  views,  he  let  drop  many  statesmanlike  ob- 
servations that  showed  how  deeply  he  had  thought 
upon  these  problems.  Then  at  a  sound  from  without, 
he  had  the  trays  cleared  away,  and  the  look  of  stern 
anger  came  back  to  his  face. 

"Now,  Mr.  Hampden,  is  the  time  for  your  assist- 
ance," he  said.  "I  did  not,  as  you  may  assume,  in- 
vite you  here  to  talk  politics.  That  pleasure  might 
have  waited  till  a  less  troubled  time.  Matters  of  more 
importance  await  us.  With  your  kind  permission,  we 
shall  hold  a  high  court  of  justice." 

I  had  ceased  to  be  astonished  at  anything  that 
might  happen  in  Big  Sam's  apartments.  I  bowed  as- 
sent, and  at  a  sharp  rap  on  the  desk,  a  score  or  more 
of  sullen-faced  Chinese  entered,  and  formed  in  line 
along  the  walls.  Apparently  they  bore  no  arms,  but 
I  judged  from  their  expression  that  they  belonged 
to  the  notorious  hatchet-men,  and  carried  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  war  under  their  loose  blouses. 
Then  entered  two  men  of  stern  aspect,  who  walked 
with  an  air  of  command,  and  after  greeting  Big 
Sam  they  were  introduced  to  me  as  the  presidents 
of  the  Sare  Bo  and  the  See  Yung  tongs  and  were 
given  seats  beside  us.  Then  at  a  curt  order  from  Big 
Sam,  another  door  opened,  and  two  men  entered 
dragging  a  protesting  prisoner  between  them. 

It  was  Little  John,  and  by  the  fear  that  gleamed 
in  his  eyes  and  set  his  chin  a-tremble,  his  forecast 
of  the  judgment  of  the  high  court  of  justice  was 
most  grave.  He  dropped  to  his  knees,  as  he  was 
dragged  in  front  of  the  desk  and  made  to  face  us, 


THE   JUSTICE   OF    BIG    SAM        327 

and  beat  his  forehead  on  the  floor  with  exclamations 
of  protest  and  appeals  for  mercy.  At  a  word  from 
Big  Sam  the  guards  brought  him  to  his  feet,  and 
Big  Sam  spoke  briefly  in  Chinese.  Then  he  turned 
to  me. 

"Is  this  the  man,  Mr.  Hampden  ?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  it  is,"  I  responded. 

"Please  repeat  your  story  to  these  men,"  and  he 
indicated  the  two  Chinese  presidents  who  looked 
with  stern,  impassive  faces  upon  the  trembling 
wretch  before  us. 

"You  will  understand  that  this  is  not  evidence," 
I  said.  "It  is  nothing  that  could  be  received  in  court, 
as  I  speak  for  the  most  part  by  hearsay." 

"Proceed,"  said  Big  Sam.  "Our  justice  is  not 
pinioned  in  the  bonds  of  your  rules  of  evidence." 
And  I  repeated  the  account  of  the  first  visit  of  Little 
John,  of  his  attempt  to  capture  Moon  Ying,  of  the 
assault  on  the  Kendrick  house  by  Danny  Regan's 
ruffians,  and  Regan's  identification  by  Moon  Ying 
as  Little  John's  expressman.  From  time  to  time  Big 
Sam  acted  as  interpreter,  though  in  the  main  the 
Chinese  appeared  to  understand  me  well  enough. 

The  prisoner  shook  as  with  an  ague  at  my  dis- 
closures, and  his  coarse  goatee  fluttered  in  sympathy 
with  his  flying  heart.  A  few  questions  were  put  to 
him,  and  after  admitting  that  he  had  visited  the  Ken- 
drick place,  he  turned  to  denial,  and  became  glib  in 
his  own  defense.  Big  Sam  translated  to  me  in  an 
undertone,  and  I  could  feel  the  anger  in  his  voice 
rising  higher  and  higher  at  each  prevarication.  At 


328          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

last  Big  Sam  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  pointing  at  me, 
thundered  a  question  at  Little  John. 

Little  John  hesitated,  stumbled  in  his  speech,  hast- 
ily denied  his  words,  then  stopped  and  looked  about 
him  with  evident  realization  that  he  was  lost;  and 
with  a  scream  of  terror  he  would  have  fallen  had 
not  the  guards  caught  him  and  brought  him  roughly 
to  his  feet. 

"Mr.  Hampden,  what  shall  be  done  with  this 
man  ?"  asked  Big  Sam. 

"I  have  a  warrant  out  for  his  arrest  for  disturb- 
ing the  peace.  I'm  afraid  I  haven't  evidence  enough 
to  satisfy  our  courts  on  a  higher  charge." 

"Well,  this  court  is  satisfied — you  believe  him 
guilty,  Mr.  Hampden?" 

"He  is  certainly  guilty  of  attempted  abduction." 

He  apparently  put  the  same  question  to  the  two 
stern-faced  men  beside  us,  and  they  gave  assent  in 
brief  phrases. 

"The  court  is  unanimous,"  said  Big  Sam.  "Guilty 
of  attempted  abduction,  violation  of  the  bargain  be- 
tween the  tongs,  sacrificing  the  interests  of  his  race 
to  the  interest  of  his  tong  by  challenging  the  white 
vengeance.  What  should  the  penalty  be,  Mr.  Hamp- 
den?" 

"I  think  in  our  court  he  would  get  two  years 
for  the  attempted  abduction,  assuming  that  he  was 
convicted." 

"A  mild  punishment,  Mr.  Hampden.  I  do  not 
wonder  that  crime  flourishes  in  your  country  with 
justice  so  feeble.  But  we  have  no  prisons  at  our 


THE   JUSTICE   OF    BIG   SAM        329 

command.  Death  or  exile  or  fine — these  are  the  pun- 
ishments we  can  enforce." 

I  shuddered  at  his  words  and  tone,  but  it  seemed 
impossible  that  we  were  discussing  more  than  a  theo- 
retical case. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  our  judgment  will  be 
carried  out  ?"  I  cried. 

"Certainly.  An  example  is  necessary;  an  offense 
has  been  committed ;  the  guilty  is  before  us  for  sen- 
tence." 

"I  should  be  satisfied  with  exile,"  I  said,  as  Big 
Sam's  eye  demanded  my  choice. 

He  spoke  to  the  two  stern-faced  men  beside  us, 
and  at  their  answer  turned  to  me. 

"All  but  you,  Mr.  Hampden,  favor  death.  It  is 
less  costly,  and  more  effective." 

"But  he  has  not  committed  a  capital  offense,"  I 
protested. 

"It  is  a  capital  offense  by  the  laws  of  his  own  land. 
And  if  he  had  succeeded  in  burning  Mr.  Kendrick's 
house  and  killing  Mr.  Kendrick's  family,  I  under- 
stand that  it  would  have  been  a  capital  offense,  even 
by  the  emasculate  laws  of  your  country.  Is  he  the 
less  guilty  that  his  accomplices  failed  in  the  parts  he 
had  arranged  for  them  ?" 

"Our  laws  give  a  lower  punishment  to  the  attempt 
than  to  the  completed  offense,"  I  objected. 

"Thereby  making  the  suffering  of  the  innocent 
and  not  the  wickedness  of  the  criminal  the  measure 
of  guilt,"  said  Big  Sam.  "It  is  enough.  Let  the 
sentence  stand."  And  with  a  few  words  to  the  men 


330         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

who  held  the  hapless  Little  John  between  them,  the 
prisoner  was  dragged  protesting  through  one  of  the 
mysterious  doors  of  Big  Sam's  apartment,  and  dis- 
appeared at  a  turn  of  the  labyrinth.  Then  with  cere- 
monious bows,  the  stern-faced  presidents  of  the 
tongs  took  their  leave,  and  lastly  Big  Sam's  retain- 
ers filed  out. 

"Do  you  mean  that  this  man  is  to  be  killed?"  I 
cried,  when  the  doors  had  closed  behind  the  depart- 
ing. "Why,  he  is  not  even  the  principal  in  the  crime. 
You  have  told  me  yourself  that  he  is  the  representa- 
tive of  the  Hop  Sing  Tong." 

"When  we  can  not  catch  the  shark,  we  catch  the 
pilot-fish,"  said  Big  Sam. 

"But  this  is  murder." 

"Mr.  Hampden,"  said  Big  Sam  calmly,  "this  has 
been  a  very  unpleasant  affair,  but,  believe  me,  neces- 
sary. Let  us  not  discuss  it  further.  I  have  put  it 
from  my  mind.  I  advise  you  to  do  the  same.  Do  you 
believe  that  the  organization  of  the  Committee  of 
Safety  will  have  any  effect  on  the  troubles  in  the 
city?" 

"I  have  every  confidence  in  the  man  at  the  head 
of  it.  I  believe  it  will  be  of  material  assistance  in 
suppressing  disorder." 

"The  revolutionary  elements  are  strong,"  said 
Big  Sam.  "I  have  information  that  there  is  to  be  an 
armed  outbreak  to-morrow  night.  Will  the  Com- 
mittee of  Safety  have  its  organization  completed  in 
time  to  check  it?  After  that,  it  may  be  too  late." 

I  wondered  whether  this  warning  had  come  from 


THE   JUSTICE    OF    BIG    SAM        331 

Peter  Bolton,  but  I  saw  the  futility  of  asking  such  a 
question  of  the  man  before  me.  I  could  merely  ex- 
press the  hope  that  the  huge  task  of  enrolling,  arm- 
ing and  instructing  the  men  who  were  flocking  to 
the  Committee's  leadership  would  be  far  enough  ad- 
vanced to  make  it  of  service  before  a  serious  out- 
break occurred. 

"If  the  Committee  is  overpowered,  I  presume  we 
shall  be  left  to  our  own  defense,"  said  Big  Sam. 
"Well,  we  shall  try  to  be  ready.  Permit  me  to  thank 
you  again  for  the  pleasure  of  your  company;  and 
good  night." 

The  retainers  who  held  Big  Sam's  store  in  force 
looked  at  me  impassively  from  their  slant-eyes  as  I 
went  out,  and  they  appeared  undisturbed  at  the 
scene  that  so  many  of  them  had  witnessed.  But  as 
the  door  was  closed  and  barred  behind  me,  their 
voices  broke  forth  in  a  chatter  of  singsong  tones  that 
revealed  the  excitement  they  had  repressed  to  the 
eye.  Big  Sam's  justice  had  at  least  impressed  his 
followers. 

Once  more  in  the  streets,  the  scene  in  Big  Sam's 
hall  seemed  impossible,  far  away,  of  another  world. 
I  studied  my  duties  to  the  laws  of  my  own  land,  as 
I  made  my  way  through  the  darkened  thorough- 
fares. Should  I  interfere,  and  try  to  save  the  life  of 
Little  John — even  supposing  that  it  was  possible  to 
find  him  in  the  Chinese  labyrinths?  Why?  Did  he 
not  deserve  his  fate?  And  as  the  picture  of  Laura 
Kendrick  crushed  in  the  burning  ruins  of  her  house 
rose  before  my  mind's  eye,  I  could  not  deny  that  the 


332         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

world  would  be  better  off  without  the  man  who  had 
planned  such  a  deed.  And  with  the  conclusion  to 
leave  Chinese  justice  to  the  Chinese,  I  made  my  way 
back  to  the  Kendrick  house. 

As  I  came  up  the  steps,  I  was  struck  by  the  coinci- 
dence of  meeting  Mr.  Baldwin  coming  down,  and 
wished  him  a  polite  "Good  night."  He  halted  in  evi- 
dent anger,  as  though  my  words  had  been  a  per- 
sonal insult.  Then  with  a  muttered  "Go  to  the 
devil !"  he  strode  up  the  street. 

These  signs  of  perturbation  upon  the  cold  and  un- 
emotional Baldwin  were  a  portent  to  wonder  at,  and 
I  suspected  that  his  visit  had  not  been  as  happy  as  he 
considered  to  be  his  desert. 

Inside  the  house,  I  discovered  some  reflection  of 
the  perturbation  displayed  by  the  retreating  Baldwin. 
Miss  Kendrick's  face  was  flushed,  and  I  thought  I 
discovered  traces  of  tears  on  her  cheeks,  and  a 
tendency  to  hysteric  laughter,  very  foreign  to  her  na- 
ture. Miss  Fillmore  was  embracing  her  with  sym- 
pathetic attention  as  I  entered. 

"Men  are  such  queer  creatures,"  said  Miss  Ken- 
drick sagely,  "and  they  do  make  themselves  ridicu- 
lous when — " 

Then  catching  sight  of  me  she  uttered  a  cry  of 
dismay,  and  said : 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Is  the  house  in  danger 
again  from  those  shocking  hoodlums  ?"  But  she  re- 
called herself  as  soon  as  she  spoke,  and  said :  "Oh, 
I  remember  now.  I  am  Miss  Scatterbrain  to-night. 
What  did  Big  Sam  want?" 


THE   JUSTICE    OF    BIG    SAM        333 

"He  wished  to  assure  me  that  there  was  no  fur- 
ther danger  from  Little  John,"  I  returned,  with  pru- 
dent reserve. 

She  looked  at  me  suspiciously,  as  though  she  de- 
tected something  behind  my  words. 

"Do  you  believe  him  ?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  his  good  faith." 

"Well,  that's  one  relief.  But  just  the  same  Moon 
Ying  doesn't  go  outside  this  house  till  all  the  trou- 
bles are  over." 

"Is  there  any  fighting  to-night?"  asked  Mercy 
anxiously. 

"Only  a  few  hoodlums.  I  think  we  shall  get 
through  the  night  without  serious  trouble,  and  to- 
morrow the  Vigilantes  will  be  organized.  Then  the 
city  can  sleep  in  peace." 

"Well,  I  hope  so,"  said  Laura,  and  Mercy  breathed 
an  assent.  "I  feel  as  though  I  hadn't  slept  for  a 
week.  And  now  you  go  and  get  some  sleep  your- 
self, for  you're  going  to  have  a  hard  day  to-mor- 
row." 

Between  the  recollections  of  business,  of  Big 
Sam's  justice,  and  of  Laura  Kendrick,  sleep  was  long 
in  coming.  Yet  of  all  problems  that  kept  my  mind 
in  ferment,  the  most  disturbing  was  "What  hap- 
pened to  Baldwin?"  And  after  arguing  myself  to 
the  pleasing  conclusion  that  he  had,  in  his  most  su- 
perior manner,  put  his  fate  to  the  test,  and  had 
fallen  from  the  full  height  of  his  self-esteem  to  the 
bottomless  pit  of  rejection,  I  fell  into  dreamless 
slumber. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FACING    A    CRISIS 

As  I  neared  the  office  on  the  following  morning  in 
some  depression  of  spirits  at  the  reports  from  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick's  bedside,  I  heard  my  name  called,  and 
turned  to  find  Parks  signaling  me.  His  face  was 
alight  with  self-importance,  his  hair  stood  out  with 
electric  aggressiveness,  and  he  seemed  to  tremble 
with  superfluous  energy,  like  a  superheated  boiler. 

"You  should  have  stayed  to  the  rest  of  our  meet- 
ing on  last  Monday  night,"  he  said  abruptly.  "We 
succeeded  in  strengthening  our  cause  among  the 
working-people,  even  though  the  misguided  violence 
of  a  few  young  men  interfered  with  our  plans  for 
freeing  the  people  from  their  oppressors." 

"I  had  other  business  than  listening  to  speeches." 

"Sir,"  he  cried,  "you  do  wrong  to  speak  with  con- 
tempt of  those  appeals  that  rouse  men  to  a  know- 
ledge of  their  rights  and  their  powers.  I  want  you 
to  be  with  us  again  to-night.  We  are  to  hold  another 
meeting  on  the  New  City  Hall  lots,  as  you  will  see 
by  this  circular."  And  he  waved  a  number  of  sheets 
that  called  upon  all  men  to  "Rally,  Rally!"  at  the 
"Great  Anti-Coolie  Mass  Meeting"  at  eight  o'clock. 

"Another  meeting!"  I  exclaimed.  "You  are  very 
indiscreet  to  hold  it  at  this  time." 


FACING   A    CRISIS  335 

"Not  at  all,"  returned  Parks  enthusiastically. 
"Now  is  the  time.  We  must  take  advantage  of  the 
roused  feelings  of  the  people.  The  outbreak  the  other 
night  came  to  nothing  because  it  was  but  an  ebulli- 
tion of  misdirected  energy.  But  it  was  prompted  by 
a  generous  desire  for  action  that  would  free  the  peo- 
ple, and  had  we  been  prepared  to  take  advantage  of 
the  opportunity,  the  strength  that  for  want  of  intel- 
ligent leadership  was  wasted  in  profitless  attacks  on 
Chinese  wash-houses  would  have  put  us  in  posses- 
sion of  the  city  government." 

"Do  you  think  you  are  prepared  now  ?" 

"We  are  ready  to  seize  the  opportunities  that  for- 
tune may  offer." 

"Why,  you're  not  so  absurd  as  to  suppose  that  you 
can  seize  the  government  now,"  I  said.  "Even  sup- 
posing you  might  have  done  something  the  other 
night — which  I  don't  think  you  could — the  time  has 
gone  by.  The  city  is  roused.  The  Committee  of 
Safety  is  organized.  The  militia  is  under  arms. 
You  will  certainly  land  in  jail  if  you  make  a  move, 
and  if  you're  locked  up,  there  will  be  one  very  un- 
happy girl  in  this  city.  For  her  sake,  Parks,  keep 
out  of  this  affair." 

"Sir,"  said  Parks,  his  aggressive  manner  a  little 
softened,  "I  am  committed.  I  can  not  in  honor  draw 
back,  even  to  please  the  best  of  women.  But  you 
underestimate  our  strength.  The  Committee  of 
Safety  itself  springs  from  the  people,  and  will  as- 
sist, not  hinder,  our  movement.  The  militia  is 
recruited  from  the  same  class,  and  will  not  fire  on  the 


336         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

people  at  the  command  of  plutocracy.  We  shall  meet 
and  we  shall  triumph.  Be  with  us  to-night,  at  eight 
sharp."  And  he  hurried  on. 

A  second  warning  of  the  intended  meeting  came 
from  Clark,  who  was  lying  in  wait  for  me  at  the 
office  door. 

"Parks  just  told  me  about  it,"  I  said.  "What  are 
they  going  to  do  ?" 

"Why,  the  men  of  the  Council  are  talking  about 
taking  possession  of  the  city  government,  but  the 
talk  of  the  men  around  town  runs  to  burning  the 
Pacific  Mail  docks  and  the  steamers,  and  running 
the  Chinese  out  of  Chinatown." 

"Burning  the  Mail  steamers !"  I  cried. 

"Yes.  We've  got  word  that  the  City  of  Tokio  is 
in  with  a  cargo  of  a  thousand  coolies,  and  the  men 
say  that  the  only  way  to  stop  them  from  landing  is  to 
burn  them  in  the  steamer,  and  make  an  end  of  the 
docks.  Anyhow,  if  they  don't  do  that,  they'll  do 
something  else  that's  likely  to  be  as  bad.  Waldorf 
and  Reddick  held  up  Bolton  in  his  office  last  night 
and  got  more  money  out  of  him — ten  thousand  or 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  I  don't  know  which — so 
they  are  in  funds  to  organize  trouble." 

This  information  seemed  to  call  for  action,  but  I 
could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  order 
Clark  to  engage  a  dozen  more  stout  fellows  to  be  on 
guard  at  the  Kendrick  place  in  case  the  mob  should 
pay  it  another  visit.  And  this  done,  I  walked  with 
some  perturbance  of  mind  into  the  office. 

Nelson  soon  arrived,  carefully  groomed,  fresh- 


FACING   A    CRISIS  337 

shaven,  his  side-whiskers  trimmed,  and  his  eye- 
glasses heightening  his  air  of  authority,  and  greeted 
me  with  more  consideration  than  he  had  shown  yes- 
terday. A  few  minutes  later  Partridge  followed  in 
more  free  and  easy  fashion. 

"I  met  Coleman  on  the  street  just  now,"  said 
Partridge.  "He's  too  busy  with  his  Vigilantes  to  do 
much  with  us  to-day." 

"I  hope  he'll  get  his  twenty  thousand  men  and 
drive  every  hoodlum  out  of  town,"  said  Nelson.  "Is 
it  true  that  Kendrick  is  going  to  die  ?" 

My  heart  climbed  into  my  throat  at  this  disturbing 
question.  The  business  as  well  as  the  personal  rea- 
sons that  would  make  his  death  a  calamity  had  led 
me  to  put  this  thought  rigorously  out  of  my  mind, 
and  it  was  an  emotional  shock  to  be  compelled  to 
face  it. 

"I  can't  think  so,"  I  replied,  as  soon  as  I  could 
command  my  voice.  "But  I'm  sorry  to  say  he  is  no 
better.  When  I  left  the  house  this  morning,  he  was 
still  unconscious." 

"I  heard  he  had  no  chance,"  said  Nelson,  "but  I 
hoped  it  wasn't  so." 

For  a  moment  I  lost  the  firmness  of  mind  that  had 
supported  me  in  the  trials  of  the  situation.  Between 
the  affection  I  had  conceived  for  Wharton  Kendrick 
and  the  thought  of  the  confusion  in  which  his  af- 
fairs would  be  left,  the  apprehension  of  his  death 
threw  me  into  mental  distraction.  I  was  recalled  by 
the  voice  of  Partridge : 

"Well,  we  must  get  down  to  business.    Here's  a 


338         THE  'APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

list  of  men  who  will  call  for  loans.  There'll  be  plenty 
of  others.  By  the  way,  Hampden,  I  got  pledges  of 
seven  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  more  to 
go  into  the  pool.  You  can  deposit  it,  if  you  like,  with 
the  rest  of  the  syndicate  fund."  And  he  tossed  me 
a  bundle  of  checks. 

This  simple  act  of  confidence  pleased  me  more 
than  words.  These  men  treated  me  as  one  of  them. 
I  was  trusted  as  Wharton  Kendrick  would  have 
been  trusted  under  the  same  circumstances,  and  at 
this  certificate  of  confidence  I  was  warmed  by  a 
pardonable  glow  of  pride. 

The  morning  was  a  repetition  of  its  predecessor, 
as  the  elements  of  the  city's  commercial  woes  trickled 
in  concentrated  form  through  the  office.  It  was  a 
depressing  business,  as  the  line  of  embarrassed  mer- 
chants, brokers  and  speculators  passed  rapidly  be- 
fore us.  Some  were  snatched  from  the  brink  of  ruin. 
Some  were  sent  about  their  business  as  frauds,  seek- 
ing to  use  the  syndicate's  funds  in  speculation.  Some 
— too  unimportant  to  affect  the  commercial  fabric 
in  their  failure — were  left  to  stand  or  fall  as  their 
own  strength  should  determine. 

"I  never  supposed  there  was  so  much  rotten  tim- 
ber afloat,"  said  Partridge. 

William  T.  Coleman  joined  us  at  the  lunch  hour, 
and  the  sight  of  his  face,  masterful  and  calm,  re- 
newed our  spirits. 

"You  are  keeping  things  pretty  near  even  in  the 
markets,"  he  said.  "We  shall  weather  the  gale  if 
there  isn't  another  outbreak." 


FACING   A    CRISIS  339 

"Well,  that's  on  the  cards,"  I  said.  "The  circu- 
lars are  out  for  another  meeting  on  the  sand-lots." 

"Come  with  me,  and  tell  what  you  know  about 
this,  while  we  have  a  bite  of  lunch,"  he  said. 

I  was  more  than  pleased  at  this  request,  but  looked 
doubtfully  at  the  accumulation  of  papers  before  us 
with  the  feeling  that  I  was  the  indispensable  man  at 
the  desk.  Coleman  interpreted  my  unspoken 
thought,  and  said : 

"Oh,  sign  a  dozen  checks  in  blank,  and  Partridge 
and  Nelson  can  attend  to  everything  necessary  while 
you  are  gone." 

I  was  reluctant  to  surrender  my  place  as  dispenser 
of  fortune,  even  for  a  brief  space  of  time.  The  posi- 
tion of  a  financial  magnate  in  a  period  of  storm  and 
stress  was  not  one  that  I  could  conscientiously  de- 
scribe as  free  from  anxieties  and  perturbations.  But 
it  was  clothed  with  power,  and  power  possesses  a 
fascination  of  its  own.  Monarchs  do  not  abdicate, 
except  under  compulsion;  and  even  among  minor 
office-holders,  whose  mastership  is  far  more  limited 
than  that  of  a  millionaire  in  business,  we  have  the 
word  of  a  president  that  "few  die  and  none  resign." 
But  at  the  compelling  glance  of  William  T.  Coleman 
I  signed  my  name  to  twelve  checks,  and  said  that  I 
was  happy  to  attend  him. 

During  our  hasty  luncheon  I  told  of  the  warning 
of  coming  outbreak  that  had  been  given  me  by  Big 
Sam,  of  the  words  of  Parks,  and  of  the  information 
I  had  received  from  Clark.  Then,  at  his  inquiries, 
I  told  all  that  I  knew  of  the  Council  of  Nine — its 


340         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

organization  from  among  the  anarchists,  socialists 
and  communists,  its  visionary  idea  of  seizing  the  city 
government,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  was  using 
the  anti-Chinese  agitation  to  secure  the  physical 
force  to  bring  about  its  revolutionary  ends. 

"You  think  the  anti-Chinese  leaders  are  being  used 
without  their  knowledge?"  asked  Coleman  thought- 
fully. 

"To  a  large  extent,  yes.  They  know,  of  course, 
that  these  men  have  wider  designs,  but  they  do  not 
take  them  seriously." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Coleman,  "they  may  prove 
dangerous  in  a  crisis  like  this.  They  have  the  reck- 
less courage  of  leadership  that  may  turn  a  mob  into 
a  destroying  body.  We  must  do  everything  we  can 
to  hasten  the  enrollment  and  organization  of  the 
Committee  of  Safety's  forces.  By  the  way,  have  you 
signed  the  roll  yet?" 

"No.  I  haven't  had  time  to  think  of  it." 

"This  will  never  do.  You  are  a  leading  citizen 
now  and  must  set  a  good  example.  Come  with  me. 
We  have  our  headquarters  in  the  Chamber  of  Com- 
merce rooms  for  the  day,  but  at  night  we  shall  as- 
semble in  Horticultural  Hall.  We  are  going  to  have 
a  big  force,  and  must  have  a  big  armory." 

The  assembly  hall  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce 
was  fitted  up  with  desks,  and  a  score  of  clerks  were 
busy  with  books  and  papers.  Two  or  three  hundred 
men  had  gathered  in  the  hall,  and  the  clerks  were 
surrounded  by  confused  but  orderly  groups.  Cole- 
man led  me  to  one  of  the  desks,  and  I  signed  my 


FACING   A    CRISIS  341 

name  while  he  himself  pinned  on  my  coat  the  badge 
of  the  Vigilantes. 

As  I  wrote,  I  was  astonished  to  see  a  dozen  lines 
above  my  pen  the  signature  of  Peter  Bolton,  and  it 
struck  fire  to  my  anger  that  the  arch-conspirator — 
the  man  who  had  inspired  the  disorder  that  threat- 
ened the  city — should  have  enrolled  his  name  among 
those  who  pledged  their  lives  and  fortunes  to  its  de- 
fense. I  gave  a  quick  look  about  the  room  with  the 
thought  that  I  should  discover  the  spare  face  and 
sardonic  smile  of  the  curmudgeon  enjoying  the  flut- 
ter into  which  he  had  thrown  the  solid  men  of  the 
city.  But  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  I  debated 
whether  I  should  call  Mr.  Coleman's  attention  to  the 
matter;  but  as  I  remembered  that  Wharton  Ken- 
drick  had  checked  a  mention  of  Bolton's  name  in 
Coleman's  own  house,  and  saw  no  present  purpose 
to  be  served  by  the  discovery,  I  followed  the  sound 
rule  of  keeping  my  mouth  shut.  And  as  William  T. 
Coleman  retired  to  the  office  of  the  Committee  of 
Twenty-four,  I  returned  to  my  duties. 

On  entering  the  door  of  my  office  I  was  given  a 
shock  of  surprise.  A  man  of  spare  figure,  tall,  with 
bowed  and  narrow  shoulders,  sat  facing  Partridge 
and  Nelson,  and  presented  only  his  back  to  my 
view;  but  the  back  was  unmistakably  the  back  of 
Peter  Bolton.  Nelson  leaned  forward,  watching 
him  with  close  attention,  while  Partridge  was  run- 
ning rapidly  through  a  bundle  of  papers. 

"I've  got  to  have  the  money,"  were  the  first  words 
that  came  to  me  in  Peter  Bolton's  complaining 


342         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

voice.  "Here  are  the  securities — pretty  good  se- 
curities, too — better  than  you  took  from  Packen- 
ham,  or  Hooper,  or  a  dozen  others — ten  times  as 
good  as  you  took  from  the  Sundown  Bank." 

Partridge  swiftly  sorted  the  papers  into  two  pack- 
ets. The  larger  one  he  threw  across  the  desk  to 
Bolton. 

"The  banks  will  take  those,"  he  said  with  crisp 
brevity.  "We  can  advance  three  hundred  thousand 
on  the  others,  if  necessary.  What  do  you  want  to 
do  with  the  money?" 

Peter  Bolton  gave  his  head  a  slow  shake. 

"I've  got  to  save  myself  from  going  under,"  he 
said  in  a  whining  tone.  "I've  got  notes  to  pay,  and 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  won't  cover  them. 
I  ought  to  have  a  million." 

"Let's  see  the  statement  of  your  liabilities,"  said 
Partridge. 

Peter  Bolton  fumbled  in  his  inside  coat  pocket, 
brought  out  a  large  pocket-book,  untied  the  string 
with  which  he  had  secured  it,  and  then  looked 
through  its  bulging  compartments. 

"I  don't  like  to  show  it,"  he  complained.  "It's 
Private  Business,  and  I  don't  like  to  trust  any  one 
with  my  Private  Business." 

"Suit  yourself,"  said  Partridge.  "Try  some  other 
place  if  you  like." 

Peter  Bolton's  trembling  hand  brought  out  a  sheet 
of  paper  from  one  of  the  recesses  of  the  pocket-book, 
and  passed  it  over  to  Partridge. 

"There  it  is,"  he  said.   "You  can  see  I've  got  to 


FACING   A    CRISIS  343 

have  money  right  away.  If  I  don't  pay  them  notes, 
I'll  be  posted  on  the  Exchange;  and  you  can't  afford 
to  have  that  happen.  If  I  go  down,  there'll  be  such 
a  smash  in  the  markets  as  you've  never  seen.  I 
shan't  go  down  alone." 

Partridge  rapidly  drew  his  pencil  through  several 
of  the  items  of  Peter  Bolton's  statement. 

"Those  will  renew,"  he  said.  "You  can  get  four 
hundred  thousand  from  the  banks  on  the  securities 
you  have  in  your  hand.  Three  hundred  thousand 
will  be  enough  for  us  to  let  you  have.  It  will  see 
you  through." 

"I  don't  see  how  I  am  to  get  along  without  more 
than  that,"  said  Peter  Bolton,  with  a  slow  shake  of 
the  head.  "But  I'll  do  the  best  I  can  with  it."  He 
gave  the  outward  evidences  of  dissatisfaction,  but 
there  was  an  undertone  of  triumph  in  his  voice,  in- 
audible to  any  ear  but  mine. 

I  had  listened  thus  far  without  an  attempt  to  in- 
terrupt. I  was  curious  to  see  what  plea  Peter  Bolton 
would  make  in  support  of  his  audacious  attempt  to 
turn  the  syndicate's  money  against  the  syndicate's 
objects;  and  it  had  not  occurred  to  me  as  possible 
that  Partridge  and  Nelson  would  fail  to  penetrate 
his  scheme.  I  forgot  for  the  moment  that  my  col- 
leagues were  not  informed  of  the  purposes  of  the 
arch-plotter,  and  it  was  therefore  with  something 
of  a  shock  that  I  heard  Partridge  consent  to  put 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  into  Bolton's  hands, 
and  saw  Nelson  dip  his  pen  in  ink  to  fill  out  the 
check. 


344         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"I  beg  pardon,"  I  said,  stepping  forward,  "but  I 
think  it  will  be  better  to  hold  that  money." 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice  Peter  Bolton  gave  a 
violent  start,  and  for  a  moment  his  face  turned  ashy 
gray,  as  he  seized  the  arms  of  the  chair  to  support 
himself.  Then  with  an  effort  he  recovered  his  self- 
possession,  and  gave  me  a  nod  that  was  meant  to  be 
ingratiating. 

"Well,"  said  Partridge,  "if  you'd  like  to  look  over 
Mr.  Bolton's  papers,  here  they  are." 

I  waved  them  away. 

"I  don't  doubt  your  judgment  on  the  securities. 
It  is  beyond  question.  I  merely  object  to  making  the 
loan  at  all." 

Peter  Bolton  raised  his  hand,  threw  back  his  head 
with  open  mouth,  and  spoke  in  his  most  sarcastic 
drawl. 

"Some  Young  Men  like  to  interfere  with  Other 
Men's  Business.  But  all  that  has  been  discussed. 
The  matter  is  settled." 

I  took  up  the  signed  checks  that  lay  before  Nelson 
and  replied: 

"Oh,  no;  there  are  several  points  to  be  explained 
before  we  go  further." 

"We  haven't  time  to  run  a  debating  club,"  said 
Nelson,  a  little  huffed  by  my  strategic  move  in  se- 
curing the  checks.  "We  have  consented  to  the  loan 
for  excellent  reasons.  Mr.  Bolton's  failure  would 
be  certain  to  start  the  panic  we  have  been  staving  off 
for  two  days." 

"Very  true.    But  Mr.  Bolton  is  unduly  anxious. 


FACING   A   CRISIS  345 

He  is  in  no  more  danger  of  failing  than  the  Bank  of 
California." 

Peter  Bolton  turned  on  me  with  suppressed  anger 
glowing  in  his  eyes,  and  drew  down  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  in  a  sarcastic  snarl. 

"Maybe,  young  man,  you  know  more  about  My 
Business  than  I  know." 

"I  shouldn't  put  it  that  way,"  I  retorted.  "I 
should  say  that  I  know  more  about  your  business 
than  you  are  ready  to  tell." 

Peter  Bolton  drew  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
again  and  turned  to  Partridge  with  the  air  of  put- 
ting me  aside. 

"Young  Men  have  Strange  Ideas,"  he  drawled, 
"but  you  are  Men  of  Experience,  and  you  know 
what  it  means  to  refuse  this  loan.  If  you  are  sure  a 
Panic  would  help  your  Business,  why,  all  you  have 
to  do  is  to  say  I  can't  have  the  money.  If  I  don't 
get  it,  I'll  be  posted  on  the  Exchange  this  after- 
noon." 

"And  I  warn  you  that  Mr.  Bolton  is  perfectly 
solvent,"  I  said. 

Partridge  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully,  and  Nel- 
son studied  the  floor  in  perplexity. 

"I  am  inclined  to  overrule  Mr.  Hampden  in  this 
matter,"  said  Partridge;  "but  he  represents  Mr. 
Kendrick,  and  I  don't  wish  to  go  in  flat  opposition 
to  his  judgment." 

Peter  Bolton  gave  me  a  malignant  glance. 

"Judgment !  judgment !"  he  exclaimed  in  his  most 
sarcastic  drawl.  "The  Young  Man  knows  that 


346         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Kendrick  and  I  haven't  been  on  good  terms,  and  he 
thinks  he  can  Curry  Favor  by  ruining  me.  But  if  I 
can  have  a  word  with  him,  I  can  convince  him  it's 
to  Kendrick's  interest  to  keep  me  afloat  this  time." 
And  seizing  my  arm,  he  attempted  to  draw  me  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room. 

"I  don't  care  to  hear  anything  you  can't  say  before 
these  gentlemen,"  I  replied. 

"Come  just  a  minute,"  he  persisted,  with  a  wheed- 
ling tone  in  his  voice,  and  drew  me  to  a  farther  cor- 
ner. Then  he  said  in  a  low,  eager  tone :  "It  will  be 
fifty  thousand  dollars  in  your  pocket  if  you  say 
yes." 

"No !"  was  my  curt  reply. 

"It  will  be  cash,"  he  urged.  "You  can  hold  the 
money  out  from  the  advance  from  the  committee. 
You'll  be  perfectly  safe." 

"No!"  I  repeated,  with  the  emphasis  of  disgust, 
and  walked  swiftly  back  to  the  desk.  For  an  instant 
I  had  the  resolve  to  explain  to  my  fellow-members 
the  offense  that  Peter  Bolton  had  proposed.  But  an 
uneasy  conscience  reminded  me  that  I  had  brought 
it  upon  myself,  and  instead  of  revealing  the  shame- 
less offer,  I  said  sharply : 

"I  ought  to  have  saved  time  by  telling  you  at  the 
first  that  nothing  could  serve  this  man's  profit  so 
well  as  a  panic.  He  above  all  other  men  is  respon- 
sible for  the  present  troubles,  and  any  money 
advanced  to  him  will  be  used  against  the  interests 
we  are  here  to  protect." 

Peter   Bolton's   hand   trembled,   and  a   look  of 


FACING   A    CRISIS  347 

desperation  came  into  his  eyes.  Otherwise  he  gave 
no  sign  of  lessening  self-possession. 

"It's  a  lie,  it's  a  lie!"  he  cried.  "I  shall  be  ruined." 
Nelson  turned  to  me. 

"That  is  a  very  serious  assertion.  You  should  be 
certain  of  your  ground  to  make  such  a  charge." 

"He  can't  prove  it.  It's  a  lie!"  repeated  Peter 
Bolton  eagerly. 

"Mr.  Bolton  is  the  father  of  the  present  crisis," 
I  said.  "He  is  the  financial  backer  of  the  agitators 
that  the  Committee  of  Safety  has  been  organized  to 
put  down.  It  was  not  so  much  as  two  weeks  ago 
that  he  paid  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  the  Council 
of  Nine." 

Peter  Bolton  attempted  to  resume  his  sarcastic 
air,  and  drew  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth  into 
his  sardonic  mask,  though  his  lip  trembled  with  the 
effort. 

"You  can't  believe  lies  like  that,"  he  said,  in  ap- 
peal to  Partridge  and  Nelson. 

"And  last  night,"  I  continued,  "he  received  two 
members  of  the  Council  of  Nine  in  his  office,  and 
paid  them  a  sum  of  money  that  I  believe  was  ten 
thousand  dollars.  It  may  have  been  twenty.  An 
armed  outbreak  is  planned  for  to-night.  If  it  comes, 
there  stands  the  man  who  furnished  the  money  for 
it."  And  I  pointed  an  accusing  ringer  at  the  spare, 
bent  form  of  the  arch-conspirator. 

At  this  evidence  of  the  accuracy  of  my  informa- 
tion, the  sallow  face  of  Peter  Bolton  once  more 
turned  to  an  ashy  gray,  and  he  looked  from  side  to 


348          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

side  as  though  seeking  some  avenue  of  escape.  Then 
he  faced  me. 

"You're  talking  nonsense,"  he  cried  with  tense 
determination  in  his  voice.  "Nobody  will  believe 
you.  You  ought  to  be  sent  to  the  asylum." 

I  looked  into  his  eyes. 

"Waldorf  and  Parks  are  within  call,"  I  said  with 
calm  and  assured  mendacity.  "Shall  I  bring  them 
in?" 

Peter  Bolton  dropped  his  eyes,  trembled  as  he 
stood  silent  for  a  moment,  then  seized  his  papers 
and  walked  to  the  door.  As  his  hand  was  on  the 
knob,  he  turned  and  shook  his  fist  at  us. 

"I'll  smash  you  yet!"  he  cried  in  a  harsh  voice, 
his  anger  getting  the  better  of  his  fears.  "I'll  smash 
you  and  that  scoundrel  Kendrick.  I'll  grind  the 
whole  pack  of  you  down  into  the  dirt."  And  he  went 
out  with  unexpected  nimbleness,  and  slammed  the 
door  behind  him. 

I  looked  at  my  associates  with  a  word  of  self- 
congratulation  on  my  tongue.  But  the  shamed  and 
apologetic  air  with  which  they  studied  the  docu- 
ments before  them  stopped  my  mouth.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  they  needed  no  one  to  inform  them  that 
they  had  been  gulled  by  Peter  Bolton,  and  I  had  the 
discretion  to  perceive  that  the  temper  of  the  office 
would  not  be  improved  by  discussion  of  the  circum- 
stances. So  I  took  my  seat  without  a  word. 

The  stream  of  imperiled  merchants  again  trickled 
through  the  room,  and  for  an  hour  we  worked  rapid- 
ly and  with  exemplary  harmony.  The  self-esteem 


FACING   A    CRISIS  349 

of  Partridge,  cut  down  by  the  treacherous  hand  of 
Peter  Bolton,  spread  and  blossomed  once  more  as 
his  skill  in  estimating  the  value  of  securities  and  the 
needs  of  borrowers  was  put  to  the  test  and  proved 
without  flaw.  The  phlegmatic  Nelson  had  shown  his 
discomposure  for  but  a  moment,  so  we  were  again 
upon  a  footing  of  close  confidence. 

It  was  half-past  two  when  Brown,  Wharton  Ken- 
drick's  head  clerk,  peered  in  at  the  door  and  beck- 
oned to  me  with  a  face  full  of  trouble.  I  made  some 
excuse,  and  followed  him  to  his  office.  He  closed 
and  locked  the  door  and  looked  at  me  in  silent  dis- 
may. 

"What's  the  matter?"  I  asked. 

"We're  ruined !"  he  gasped. 

"What's  that?"  I  cried. 

"We  must  close  the  doors — unless  you  have  three 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand,"  he  whispered  slowly. 

He  looked  at  me  with  the  white  face  and  colorless 
lips  of  a  man  in  the  final  stages  of  nausea.  The  mis- 
fortunes of  Wharton  Kendrick  were  taken  to  heart 
by  at  least  one  man. 

"It's  some  of  Mr.  Kendrick's  notes,"  he  said. 
"They've  just  been  presented.  There's  four  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  of  them  altogether — lacking  a 
few  hundreds,  and  all  the  money  we've  got  is  a  little 
over  one  hundred  thousand." 

"Where  do  these  notes  come  from?  Who  pre- 
sents them?" 

"They  are  made  out  to  different  persons ;  but  they 
are  presented  by  the  El  Dorado  Bank." 


350         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Didn't  Mr.  Kendrick  make  any  provision  to 
meet  them  ?" 

"Maybe  he  did — I  suppose  so,  for  some  of  them 
are  three  weeks  overdue.  But  he  never  said  any- 
thing to  me  about  them." 

"Let  me  see  them." 

The  bank's  messenger  was  brought  in,  and  I 
scrutinized  the  notes  he  presented.  They  were  on 
their  face  made  payable  to  a  dozen  or  more  men — 
some  to  one,  some  to  another — but  all  had  been  in- 
dorsed to  Peter  Bolton. 

There  was  no  time  to  waste  in  lamentations,  and 
there  was  but  one  resource  in  sight.  I  bade  the  mes- 
senger wait  a  minute,  and  hastened  back  to  the  syn- 
dicate's office. 

"Here  are  three  checks  for  you  to  sign,"  said 
Partridge.  "The  men  are  waiting  for  them  in  the 
anteroom." 

They  were  for  but  small  amounts,  and  I  hastily 
added  my  name  to  the  slips. 

"I  have  something  more  important  yet  to  lay  be- 
fore you,"  I  said  boldly.  "I  want  three  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"What's  that?"  cried  Partridge. 

Nelson  looked  too  shocked  for  words,  and  I  re- 
peated my  request. 

"What  do  you  want  it  for?"  demanded  Part- 
ridge. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  replied,  "I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
we  are  face  to  face  with  the  greatest  danger  we  have 
yet  met.  Peter  Bolton  has  made  good  his  threat. 


FACING   A    CRISIS  351 

He  has  struck  quick  and  hard.  He  has  presented  for 
payment  through  the  El  Dorado  Bank  nearly  four 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  of  Wharton  Kendrick's 
notes,  and  there  is  only  one  hundred  thousand  in 
the  house  to  pay  them  with.  I  must  ask  you  for  the 
balance." 

Partridge  drew  a  whistle  of  surprise,  and  Nelson 
turned  pale. 

"The  old  fox!"  cried  Nelson.  "We  might  have 
known  he  was  up  to  mischief." 

"And  he  put  them  in  through  the  El  Dorado 
Bank,"  said  Partridge  reflectively.  "I  wonder  if  he 
is  with  the  bank's  wrecking  combination." 

"He  is  at  the  head  of  it,"  I  said. 

Partridge  drummed  on  the  desk  with  nervous 
fingers,  and  his  face  took  on  a  grim  look.  As 
neither  of  my  associates  spoke,  I  said : 

"Well,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  our  duty  to  sup- 
port Wharton  Kendrick  in  this  emergency." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  Partridge.  "What  security 
can  you  offer?" 

"Haven't  the  least  idea,"  I  replied  curtly. 

"You'd  better  make  us  a  general  assignment," 
said  Nelson.  "I  suppose  that  will  cover  it." 

"I  couldn't  think  of  doing  such  a  thing,"  I  re- 
plied, restraining  my  indignation  with  an  effort.  "A 
note  will  have  to  do." 

"It's  a  very  irregular  proposition,"  said  Nelson. 
"Even  the  Sundown  Bank  has  put  up  a  pretense  of 
collateral." 

"Well,"  I  returned,  "as  a  business  proposition, 


352          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

wouldn't  you  rather  hold  Wharton  Kendrick's  note 
than  the  Sundown  Bank's  collateral?" 

"Yes,  of  course — provided  Wharton  Kendrick 
lives.  But  Wharton  Kendrick  is  likely  to  die.  The 
question  we  have  to  consider  is,  What  will  his  note 
be  worth  in  the  Probate  Court?" 

"You  see  how  it  is,"  said  Partridge,  with  the 
patient  air  of  one  instructing  a  novice.  "If  you 
haven't  anything  to  pledge,  why,  an  assignment  is 
the  thing." 

I  faced  my  associates  with  the  determination  to 
yield  nothing. 

"I  act  on  the  assumption  that  Wharton  Kendrick 
will  get  well,"  I  replied.  "And  if  he  gets  well  only 
to  find  that  I  have  made  a  general  assignment  of  his 
business,  how  much  further  do  you  suppose  he  will 
trust  me  with  his  affairs  ?" 

"That's  all  right  for  you,"  said  Partridge.  "But 
how  shall  we  look  when  we  present  our  account  to 
the  syndicate  and  show  that  we  have  loaned  one  of 
our  members  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  with- 
out security?  How  long  do  you  think  it  would  be 
before  we  got  a  chance  to  handle  any  more  of  their 
money?  We'd  be  waiting  till  the  next  day  after 
never,  I  guess." 

The  knot  of  circumstances  seemed  to  be  pretty 
firmly  tangled,  and  I  saw  no  way  but  to  cut  it  by  a 
bold  stroke. 

"I  don't  want  to  act  without  your  consent — "  I 
began. 

"You  have  no  right  to  act  without  our  consent," 


FACING   A    CRISIS  353 

interrupted  Partridge,  with  quick  insight  into  my  re- 
solve. 

"Right  or  not,  I  have  the  power.  And  you  will  be 
relieved  of  responsibility  if  I  pay  the  money  without 
your  consent." 

"You  wouldn't  do  that !"  cried  Nelson  and  Part- 
ridge in  a  breath,  their  faces  showing  signs  of  rising 
temper. 

"I  certainly  shall  do  it  before  I  see  Wharton  Ken- 
drick's  notes  go  to  protest  and  a  financial  panic 
start  in  San  Francisco." 

Partridge  and  Nelson  looked  at  me  with  concern 
and  anger  pictured  on  their  faces.  But  before  either 
could  speak,  the  door  opened  and  William  T.  Cole- 
man  entered. 

"You're  just  in  time,  Coleman,"  said  Partridge 
explosively.  "See  if  you  can't  put  reason  into  this 
young  man's  head." 

"What's  the  trouble?"  asked  Coleman,  looking 
calmly  at  the  flushed  and  angry  countenances  be- 
fore him. 

Partridge  and  I  attempted  to  explain  our  posi- 
tions at  the  same  time,  but  Coleman  picked  out  the 
facts  from  the  confusion,  and  with  a  few  tactful 
questions  had  the  situation  clearly  in  his  mind. 

"The  solution  is  very  simple,"  he  said.  "Wharton 
Kendrick  subscribed  five  hundred  thousand  to  the 
syndicate.  Mr.  Hampden  will  assign  us  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  out  of  that  sum,  and  we 
shall  be  perfectly  protected." 

Coleman's  plan  was  so  logical  and  businesslike  a 


354         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

way  out  of  our  difficulties  that  I  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief,  and  the  anger  of  my  associates  evaporated 
in  a  laugh  at  our  stupidity  in  not  thinking  of  it  for 
ourselves. 

"How  much  does  that  leave  in  the  fund?"  asked 
Coleman,  when  I  had  taken  up  the  notes,  and  sent 
the  clerk  on  his  way. 

"A  trifle  over  twenty-three  thousand." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Partridge,  rising  with  a  the- 
atric gesture,  "the  syndicate  retires  from  business. 
Thank  Heaven  it  is  striking  three." 

"And  what  of  to-morrow  ?"  I  asked. 

Partridge  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  wish  to  God  I  knew,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ON   THE   PRECIPICE 

The  air  of  gloom  that  enveloped  Wharton  Ken- 
drick's  home  was  almost  physical  in  its  intensity. 
It  was  with  apprehension  that  I  awaited  the  opening 
of  the  door,  and  it  was  with  anxious  eagerness  that 
I  looked  to  Mercy  Fillmore  as  she  stood  behind  the 
servant  who  answered  my  ring. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hampden,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  ad- 
vanced and  gave  me  her  hand,  "I  have  been  wishing 
you  would  come." 

I  was  gratified  at  the  tone  of  relief  and  confidence 
with  which  she  spoke,  but  my  response  was  to  ask 
of  the  condition  of  Wharton  Kendrick. 

"He  is  still  out  of  his  head,"  she  replied,  dropping 
into  a  seat.  "Sometimes  he  talks  a  little — a  few 
broken  words — but  most  of  the  time  he  lies  there 
silent,  with  vacant  eyes.  If  it  were  not  for  his 
heavy  breathing  we  should  hardly  know  that  he  was 
alive."  Her  sympathetic  face  was  filled  with  con- 
cern as  she  spoke. 

"What  does  the  doctor  say?" 

"He  tries  to  look  cheerful  and  speak  confidently, 
but  it  is  such  an  effort,  I  am  afraid.  Yet  for  Laura's 
sake  I  hope,  and  try  to  be  convinced  by  the  doctor's 
words."  Then  she  added  quickly :  "I  said  I  wanted 

355 


356          THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

to  see  you.  Mr.  Parks  was  here  to-day.  We  had  a 
long  talk,  and  truly,  Mr.  Hampden,  I  want  you  to 
believe  that  he  is  a  man  of  noble  impulses.  He  is  so 
unselfish,  so  eager  for  the  good  of  others." 

"I  don't  complain  about  his  instincts.  His  heart 
is  in  the  right  place,  as  the  saying  goes,  but  his  head 
is  upside  down." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hampden,  you  do  not  understand  him !" 
said  Mercy  in  a  pained  voice. 

"Perhaps  not;  but  surely  he  has  not  convinced 
you  that  he  is  wise  to  engage  in  such  desperate  en- 
terprises as  the  overthrow  of  the  government?" 

Mercy  was  silent  a  little,  and  then  she  said : 

"I  should  be  glad  if  he  could  see  some  other  way 
to  work  for  the  good  of  the  people,  but  I  am  not 
wise  myself,  so  how  can  I  judge  him?  He  tells  me 
that  it  is  not  right  to  reason  from  womanly  fears. 
Do  you  think  he  is  in  danger,  Mr.  Hampden?  He 
is  planning  some  important  enterprise  for  to-night. 
Is  there  anything  we  can  do  to  save  him  ?" 

My  private  opinion  was  that  Parks  would  end 
by  getting  shot  or  thrown  into  jail.  But  I  could  not 
pain  Mercy  with  any  such  brutal  statements,  so  I 
soothed  her  fears  as  best  I  could.  "We  can't  in- 
fluence him  to  keep  out  of  the  movement,"  I  said, 
"but  ten  to  one  it  won't  amount  to  anything  but  a 
lot  of  oratory,  and  hard  words  break  no  bones.  You 
have  no  cause  to  worry  about  him." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mercy, 
looking  relieved.  "And  now  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  Danny  Regan.  You  know  that  Moon  Ying 


ON    THE    PRECIPICE  357 

recognized  him  as  that  old  Chinaman's  express- 
man?" 

"Yes.  She  told  me." 

"Well,  I  talked  to  him  until  he  confessed  the 
whole  plot  to  me.  It  began  last  week,  after  a  good 
deal  of  bargaining,  when  he  agreed  to  steal  the  girl. 
He  came  late  one  night  with  two  others,  and 
thought  there  would  be  nobody  watching  the  house. 
But  your  men  surprised  them  coming  over  the  fence, 
and  caught  Danny's  friend.  He  is  the  sergeant-at- 
arms  of  an  anti-coolie  club,  he  said.  Danny  and  the 
other  one  got  away.  Then  Danny  came  around  in 
the  daytime,  and  pretended  to  be  a  tramp,  and  got 
something  to  eat  and  talked  everything  out  of  the 
cook.  She  told  him  all  about  Moon  Ying,  and  where 
she  slept,  and  Danny  raised  a  company  to  attack  the 
house.  He  was  going  to  set  it  on  fire,  and  capture 
the  girl  as  we  all  ran  out,  and  when  the  hoodlums 
came  in  front,  he  thought  it  would  be  easy.  I  asked 
him  how  he  could  do  such  a  thing,  and  his  excuse 
was  that  he  was  drunk.  He  wants  to  know  if  you 
are  going  to  have  him  arrested,  and  tries  to  lay  the 
blame  on  the  Chinaman  he  calls  Little  John.  Do 
you  intend  to  put  him  in  jail?" 

"I  can't  think  of  a  better  place  for  him.  How 
soon  can  he  be  moved  ?" 

"I  suppose  he  ought  to  be  punished.  But  he  has 
suffered  much  for  his  crime,  and  now  appears  to  be 
truly  repentant.  And  at  best  he  can  not  well  be 
moved  until  next  week.  Don't  you  think  we  might 
forgive  him?" 


358         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"No,  I  don't.  You  and  Miss  Laura  might  have 
been  killed.  I  am  angrier  every  time  I  think  of  it. 
Where  is  she  now  ?" 

"She  is  with  Mr.  Kendrick.  She  has  hardly  left 
his  side  to-day.  She  gave  ten  minutes  to  Moon 
Ying — it's  a  blessing  that  our  little  protegee  is  get- 
ting able  to  help  herself — and  she  gave  about  as 
much  more  to  looking  after  the  house.  The  rest  of 
the  day  she  has  spent  with  her  uncle." 

"I  should  say,  then,  that  it  was  about  time  she 
took  some  rest." 

"Well,"  said  Mercy,  rising,  "I  hope  you  can  con- 
vince her  of  it.  I'll  tell  her  you  are  here."  And  she 
left  me  alone. 

It  was  ten  minutes  before  the  door  opened  and 
Miss  Kendrick  entered.  I  greeted  her  with  some 
surprise,  for  she  was  dressed  as  though  she  had  just 
come  in  from  the  street. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  look  so  astonished,"  she  said,  as 
she  gave  me  her  hand  with  a  tired  smile.  "I  haven't 
been  out  of  the  house  to-day,  so  I  thought  I'd  enlist 
your  services  as  cavalier.  I'm  dying  for  a  breath  of 
fresh  air." 

"I'm  glad  to  find  you  with  some  spirit  left.  I 
was  afraid  you  would  be  dead." 

"I  am,"  she  returned,  leading  the  way  out  of  the 
door.  "But  I  shall  be  alive  after  a  'little  walk.  I 
don't  like  being  a  ghost,  but  it's  much  more  tolerable 
than  one  would  suppose  before  trying  it." 

She  was  in  no  mood  to  make  conversation,  and 
walked  by  my  side  for  a  while  without  speaking. 


ON    THE    PRECIPICE  359 

But  there  was  such  an  air  of  confidence  in  her  man- 
ner, such  unspoken  expression  of  comradeship  in 
her  attitude,  that  I  was  content  to  follow  her  exam- 
ple and  find  satisfaction  in  the  silent  communion  and 
feel  delight  at  the  pressure  of  her  hand  upon  my 
arm.  We  had  walked  a  few  blocks  thus  before  she 
said,  with  an  abruptness  that  startled  me : 

"Tell  me  about  to-day." 

I  had  been  thinking  of  far  more  agreeable  things 
than  business,  but  I  recovered  myself  from  the  mo- 
mentary confusion  into  which  I  was  thrown,  and 
replied : 

"It  was  a  very  lively  day  indeed."  And,  once 
started,  I  described,  with  such  entertaining  details 
as  I  could  recall,  some  of  the  incidents  of  our  strug- 
gle to  keep  the  car  of  commerce  on  the  track. 

"I  didn't  mean  all  that,"  she  said  at  last.  "It's 
very  amusing,  but  I'm  not  in  the  mood  to  be  amused. 
Neither  are  you.  What  I  want  to  know  about  is 
uncle's  business." 

"Well,  as  for  that,"  I  replied,  "we  got  through 
another  day  safely.  We  had  one  or  two  exceedingly 
tight  pinches,  but  we  wriggled  out  all  right.  I  guess 
the  worst  of  it  is  over,  and  we  shall  pull  through  in 
good  shape." 

She  dropped  my  arm  with  an  impatient  gesture, 
and  I  felt  a  sudden  breaking  of  the  current  of  silent 
communication  that  had  drawn  us  together. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  just  what  happened  at  the 
office  to-day,  and  just  how  we  stand?  Didn't  I  tell 
you  that  I  find  nothing  so  terrible  as  uncertainty? 


360         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

It  is  the  unknown  that  scares  me.  Let  me  see  what 
is  before  me,  and  I'll  have  the  courage  to  face  it. 
Tell  me  the  truth  as  you  would  tell  it  to  uncle  if  you 
were  talking  to  him  instead  of  to  me."  Her  tone  was 
so  pleading  that  my  heart  melted  within  me,  and  I 
was  shaken  with  the  desire  to  take  her  in  my  arms 
and  tell  her  that  it  would  be  the  business  of  my  life 
to  shield  her  from  harm.  It  was  a  minute  before  I 
had  a  firm  grasp  on  myself.  Then  I  laid  the  whole 
account  of  Wharton  Kendrick's  business  before  her, 
as  fully  as  I  knew  it. 

She  heard  me  soberly,  with  only  a  question  here 
and  there  to  clear  up  the  points  she  did  not  under- 
stand. Then  she  asked : 

"The  troubles  aren't  over  yet,  are  they?" 

"No." 

"And  what  shall  you  do  to-morrow  ?" 

"I  wish  I  knew." 

She  reflected  a  little,  and  then  said : 

"You  can't  perform  miracles  every  day.  You 
could  not  get  through  another  day  like  to-day,  could 
you?" 

"Not  without  help  from  somewhere.  But  I  hope 
that  the  worst  is  over." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  think  I'll  blame  you  if  every- 
thing goes  to  pieces.  You've  done  ten  times  as  much 
as  anybody  had  a  right  to  expect.  But  there  is  a 
limit  to  the  things  that  can  be  done,  and  I  know  it 
very  well." 

I  tried  to  speak,  but  she  continued  quickly : 

"Oh,  I  haven't  given  up  hope.    Not  a  bit  of  it. 


ON    THE    PRECIPICE  361 

But  I  have  to  look  ahead.  That's  a  part  of  me.  But 
I  won't  talk  about  it  if  you  don't  like." 

At  the  thought  of  her  anxieties  my  feelings  over- 
mastered me  and  I  said : 

"I  do  like.  But  I  want  you  to  look  ahead  to  some- 
thing else — to  another  future  than  taking  care  of 
your  uncle's  house."  My  heart  thumped  in  my 
breast,  and  I  felt  a  throb  in  my  throat  playing 
strange  tricks  with  my  voice.  In  the  instant  I 
thought  of  all  that  I  had  put  at  stake,  and  wished 
I  had  not  begun.  But  with  an  effort  of  will  I  con- 
tinued :  "I  want  you  to  think  of  another  future.  I 
love  you  more  than  all  the  world,  and  I  want  you  to 
be  my  wife." 

She  walked  silently  by  my  side,  neither  increasing 
her  distance  nor  drawing  nearer  to  me.  But  she 
walked  on  and  spoke  no  word,  and  I  fell  into  a  panic 
over  the  boldness  that  had  inspired  me  to  my  avowal. 
We  had  proceeded  thus  for  two  or  three  blocks  be- 
fore I  plucked  up  the  courage  to  ask : 

"And  what  is  the  answer  ?" 

She  kept  her  head  down,  but  replied  with  a  trace 
of  drollery  in  her  tone : 

"It  wasn't  a  question.  And  there  isn't  any  an- 
swer." 

"I'll  make  it  a  question  then." 

She  looked  quickly  up  into  my  face. 

"It  wouldn't  do  any  good  if  you  did.  Anybody 
can  ask  questions,  but  it  takes  a  very  wise  person  to 
answer  them." 

"But,"  I  pleaded,  looking  into  her  eyes  till  she 


362         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

cast  them  down  once  more,  "it  means  everything  to 
me,  and — " 

"I  know  all  that  you  would  say,"  she  interrupted. 
"But  how  can  I  think  of  such  a  thing  when  I  have 
so  much  that  must  be  done — so  many  uncertainties 
to  face?" 

She  laid  her  hand  appealingly  on  my  arm,  and 
looked  up  into  my  face  again.  Then  she  continued : 

"My  uncle  is  perhaps  dying.  I  don't  have  to  tell 
you  how  all  his  affairs  are  in  confusion.  And  you 
are  the  friend  I  have  most  to  look  to  for  help  and 
counsel.  You  won't  take  my  chiefest  reliance  away 
from  me,  will  you  ?" 

Her  appealing  look  and  tone  were  too  much  for 
me.  It  was  a  very  quiet  place  on  a  very  quiet  street, 
and  the  dusk  had  fallen  almost  to  darkness;  so  I 
yielded  to  the  impulse  and  stopped  and  kissed  her. 
She  did  not  resist,  but  drew  a  quick  breath  that  was 
almost  a  gasp,  and  lowered  her  eyes.  Then  she  said 
quietly : 

"There — all  that  is  to  be  put  away  with  the  things 
that  were.  And  you're  to  think  of  all  you  have  said 
as  something  that  came  in  a  dream.  And  now  we'll 
wake  up  and  look  to  the  serious  business  of  life.  It 
isn't  such  a  very  pleasant  season  of  life,  is  it  ?" 

Her  voice  broke  a  little  as  she  ended,  and  my  heart 
smote  me. 

"I  hope,"  I  said,  "that  I  don't  have  to  tell  you 
that  you  can  depend  on  me  for  every  service  that  I 
have  power  to  give." 

She  took  my  arm  again  with  an  air  of  confidence. 


ON    THE    PRECIPICE  363 

"You  are  always  to  be  my  good  friend,"  she  said. 
"And  now  we'll  go  back.  It's  getting  dark,  and 
maybe  the  fresh  air  wasn't  what  I  wanted  after  all. 
I'm  a  bit  upset." 

I  felt  somewhat  upset  myself.  I  was  certainly  left 
hanging  in  a  most  uncertain  and  unsatisfactory  posi- 
tion; but  I  saw  no  way  to  better  it,  and  held  my 
tongue,  and  wondered  with  a  jealous  pang  if  Bald- 
win had,  after  all,  won  the  prize  I  coveted. 

We  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  time,  but  at  last  she 
suddenly  said : 

"Oh,  there  was  something  I  was  near  forgetting 
to  tell  you.  I've  been  sitting  by  uncle,  almost  all  day, 
and  for  the  most  of  the  time  he  has  lain  there  more 
like  a  log  than  a  man.  But  sometimes  he  has  talked 
— not  to  know  what  he  was  saying,  you  understand 
— but  some  ideas  are  bothering  his  poor  head.  I  am 
supposing  that  they  have  to  do  with  his  business. 
A  dozen  times  in  the  day  he  spoke  your  name,  and 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  tell  you  something.  He  told 
it  over  and  over,  but  the  only  words  I  could  make  out 
were  'notes,'  'million,'  and  'five  hundred  and  six- 
teen.' The  figures  seem  to  mean  something  to  him, 
for  he  has  repeated  them  oftener  than  anything 
else." 

She  paused  for  comment,  and  I  submitted  my 
guesses : 

"The  notes  are  probably  those  that  Peter  Bolton 
presented  to-day.  The  million  is  roughly  the  amount 
we  are  short  in  the  business,  counting  the  deficit  in 
the  syndicate  fund.  I  can't  imagine  what  the  'five 


364         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

hundred  and  sixteen'  can  mean.  It  is  not  the  num- 
ber of  his  office,  for  that  is  in  the  four  hundred 
block.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  in  the  busi- 
ness that  it  could  signify." 

Laura  Kendrick  halted  me,  and  looked  up  in  my 
face. 

"I  am  not  given  to  intuitions,"  she  said,  her  tone 
thrilling  with  earnestness,  "but  I  have  one  now.  As 
sure  as  you  stand  there,  uncle  made  provision  for 
paying  the  notes  and  raising  the  rest  of  the  money 
you  have  had  to  find,  and  the  number  'five  hundred 
and  sixteen'  has  something  to  do  with  it.  Find  the 
five  hundred  and  sixteen  and  you'll  find  the  million 
dollars."  And  with  a  nod  of  conviction  she  walked 
forward  once  more. 

"It  may  be  one  of  the  banks,"  I  ventured  to  sug- 
gest, "but  I  can't  remember  that  any  of  them  are  at 
that  number." 

"Mightn't  it  be  the  place  of  business  of  some 
friend,  where  he  has  left  this  money?" 

I  shook  my  head  at  this  improbable  guess,  and 
turned  the  problem  over  in  my  mind  without  result. 
Then  I  ventured  to  propose  that  I  should  see  Whar- 
ton  Kendrick. 

"My  presence  might  stir  his  thoughts  to  some 
more  definite  speech,"  I  argued. 

"Well,  I'll  let  you  in  for  just  a  minute.  But  Doc- 
tor Roberts  said  that  nothing  must  be  done  to  excite 
him,  and  I  don't  know  as  it  is  right  to  take  the  risk." 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  in  the  sick-room  where 
Wharton  Kendrick  lay.  His  large  frame  was 


ON    THE    PRECIPICE  365 

motionless,  except  for  his  breathing.  His  face  was 
flushed,  and  the  lines  of  strength  and  power  that  it 
bore  in  health  had  faded  into  expressionless  weak- 
ness. 

"He  is  like  this  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time," 
said  Laura ;  "yet  I  have  the  feeling  that  under  it  all 
he  is  conscious  of  what  is  going  on  about  him,  and 
I  do  everything  just  as  if  I  were  sure  that  he  could 
hear  and  see." 

It  was  beyond  all  bounds  of  probability,  yet  at  the 
conceit  a  sudden  thought  came  into  my  mind. 

"If  you  should  be  right,  he  must  be  horribly  wor- 
ried about  his  affairs.  I'll  just  say  a  word  to  relieve 
his  mind."  Then  speaking  slowly  and  distinctly  I 
gave  a  brief  account  of  the  course  of  the  markets, 
dwelt  on  the  success  of  the  syndicate  in  sustaining 
the  business  fabric,  and  hinted  at  the  need  for  more 
money  on  the  morrow. 

There  was  no  physical  response.  If  there  was  an 
intelligent  brain  in  that  inert  body,  it  found  no  serv- 
ant at  its  call  among  the  flaccid  muscles,  and  not  even 
the  moving  of  an  eyelid  gave  sign  that  I  was  under- 
stood. Yet  as  I  spoke,  there  came  somewhere  in  my 
consciousness  the  conviction  that  I  was  heard,  and 
that  my  words  had  brought  relief  to  an  overstrained 
mind. 

Laura  Kendrick  looked  quickly  from  the  face  of 
her  uncle  to  mine,  and  a  sudden  light  sprang  into  her 
eyes. 

"You  felt  it,  too,"  she  said. 

"Yes." 


366         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

"You  have  done  good ;  but  you  mustn't  stay  here 
any  longer.  Don't  leave  the  house,  though,  unless 
you  have  to.  I  shall  be  afraid  when  you  are  gone." 

As  she  opened  the  door  to  banish  me  from  the 
sick-room,  a  servant  had  just  raised  his  hand  to  tap 
at  the  panel. 

"What  is  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"A  man  to  see  Mr.  Hampden.  I  took  him  into 
the  library." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A    CALL  TO   ARMS 

I  followed  the  servant  and  was  surprised  to  find 
Clark  uneasily  seated  on  the  edge  of  a  cushioned 
chair,  nervously  twisting  his  hat,  and  looking  as 
though  he  was  afraid  he  was  going  to  break  some- 
thing. 

"I'm  sorry  to  bother  you  here,"  he  said  awk- 
wardly, "but  things  have  come  to  a  head." 

"What  is  it  now?  Do  you  think  that  to-night's 
meeting  is  going  to  make  more  trouble  than  the 
other  one  did  ?" 

"Well,  no,  sir.  The  meeting  don't  amount  to 
much.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  sir,  the  meeting  is  only 
a  blind.  Parks  got  out  the  notices,  and  he's  going  to 
make  a  speech.  But  he's  the  only  one  of  the  Coun- 
cil's people  who  will  be  there.  The  others  are  down 
at  headquarters  getting  ready  for  the  real  work  of 
the  night." 

"The  real  work?  What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"Well,  the  truth  of  the  business  is,"  said  Clark, 
"that  the  rifle  clubs  are  to  be  called  out  to-night.  Or- 
ders have  gone  out  to  all  the  Council's  clubs  to  as- 
semble at  eleven.  At  twelve  they  will  be  given  their 
guns,  and  then  they  will  be  sent  out  to  seize  the 
city.  One  company  is  to  take  possession  of  the  City 

367 


368         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Hall;  another  will  take  the  Committee  of  Safety's 
headquarters;  and  others  the  National  Guard  Ar- 
mories, the  Mint,  the  Subtreasury,  and  so  on." 

"Are  they  crazy?  Why,  the  Committee  of  Safety 
has  fifteen  thousand  men  enrolled  by  this  time." 

"Crazy  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  protested  Clark  warmly. 
"The  Committee  of  Safety  won't  have  any  leaders 
or  any  guns  left  by  to-morrow.  Coleman,  and 
Mayor  Bryant,  and  General  McComb,  and  every 
man  of  the  Committee  of  Twenty-Four  will  be  un- 
der lock  and  key  before  morning  if  something  isn't 
done  about  it.  They  all  go  home  to  sleep,  and  there 
isn't  a  man  of  'em  that's  thought  of  having  a  guard 
about  his  house.  They'll  all  be  taken  like  rats  in  a 
trap.  Then  where's  the  Committee  of  Safety  and  the 
militia?  They'll  be  without  leaders  and  without 
guns,  and  what'll  they  do  ?  They'll  scatter  like  sheep. 
The  whole  scheme  has  been  worked  out  like  the 
plans  for  a  building,  and  if  the  Council  isn't  stopped 
before  twelve  you'll  wake  up  to-morrow  morning 
under  a  new  government." 

"Nonsense !"  I  said.   "They  can't  do  that." 

"All  right,"  said  Clark,  with  a  hurt  and  offended 
look,  "they  can't,  then.  But  it  was  my  duty,  sir,  to 
warn  you,  and  I've  done  it,  so  I'll  be  going." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Clark,"  I  said  hastily.  "I 
didn't  mean  to  doubt  your  word  or  hurt  your  feel- 
ings. You've  done  quite  right  in  coming  here,  and 
it's  my  business  to  see  that  they  don't  carry  out  their 
crazy  schemes.  Wait  a  minute,  and  I'll  walk  along 
down  with  you." 


A    CALL   TO   ARMS  369 

I  had  a  hurried  word  with  Laura  Kendrick,  and 
explained  to  her  the  importance  of  the  information 
Clark  had  brought,  and  the  necessity  of  laying  it 
promptly  before  the  Committee  of  Safety. 

She  looked  up  at  me  with  some  apprehension  in 
her  eyes. 

"Well,  if  you  must,  you  must,"  she  said.  "But 
don't  you  get  into  any  mobs  or  into  any  fighting. 
Just  remember  that  it's  the  man  who  orders  some- 
body else  to  do  his  fighting  that  gets  the  glory  out 
of  it.  If  there's  any  trouble,  see  that  you're  one  of 
the  orderers  instead  of  one  of  the  ordered." 

I  laughed  at  her  anxious  counsel,  and  promising 
to  use  all  the  caution  with  which  nature  had  en- 
dowed me,  I  joined  Clark  and  left  the  house. 

Directing  Clark  to  attend  the  sand-lot  meeting 
and  to  get  word  to  Andrews  at  once  if  the  mob 
should  head  for  the  Kendrick  house,  I  caught  a  car 
and  rode  to  the  headquarters  of  the  Committee  of 
Safety. 

Horticultural  Hall  resembled  a  beehive  on  swarm- 
ing day.  Wealth  and  poverty  were  represented  side 
by  side.  Merchants,  workmen,  lawyers,  doctors,  la- 
borers rubbed  elbows,  and  their  stern  and  serious 
faces  testified  to  the  depth  of  feeling  that  had 
brought  them  out  to  the  defense  of  the  city.  It  was 
an  outburst  of  the  same  spirit  that  had  given  birth 
to  the  nation,  and  had  again  called  forth  vast  armies 
to  preserve  it  when  its  existence  was  threatened  by 
civil  war. 

At  the  end  of  the  hall  a  number  of  desks  had  been 


370         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

arranged  where  enrolment  was  still  in  progress.  Be- 
hind the  desks  was  a  platform,  and  as  I  approached 
it  I  saw  William  T.  Coleman  walk  briskly  to  the 
speaker's  stand. 

"Three  cheers  for  Coleman!"  came  the  cry  from 
a  strong-lunged  Vigilante,  and  three  cheers  were 
given  with  a  will. 

The  president  of  the  Committee  raised  his  hand  to 
command  silence. 

"Fellow-citizens:"  he  cried  in  a  full,  resonant 
voice.  "You  have  come  here  to  fight — not  to  talk 
or  cheer.  We  find  a  mob  spirit  abroad,  very  danger- 
ous to  the  peace  and  order  of  the  city.  It  is  your 
business  to  put  that  spirit  down.  For  this  purpose 
you  are  clothed  with  all  the  powers  of  police  officers. 
The  mayor  has  issued  his  proclamation,  command- 
ing disorderly  persons  to  disperse,  and  it  is  our  part 
to  see  that  this  proclamation  is  obeyed.  You  have 
behind  you  the  armed  force  of  the  State  and  Nation. 
But  it  should  be  a  part  of  your  pride  as  San  Fran- 
ciscans that  this  force  should  not  be  needed  for  your 
protection.  The  people  have  shown  on  former  oc- 
casions that  they  were  able  to  protect  themselves. 
Show  now  that  your  courage  and  self-reliance  have 
not  degenerated  in  twenty  years." 

There  was  a  warm  response  to  this  exhortation, 
and,  at  a  sign  from  Coleman,  the  adjutants  began 
calling  forward  the  companies,  and  despatching  their 
to  their  work. 

"Captain  Korbel!"  called  the  commanding  voice 
of  the  adjutant  at  the  desk  nearest  us. 


A    CALL   TO    ARMS  37! 

"Here!"  came  the  reply  in  a  strong  German  ac- 
cent, and  a  man  with  energetic  face  stepped  out  from 
a  company  of  twenty  men. 

"You  will  patrol  Mission  Street,  from  Sixth  to 
Twelfth.  Keep  the  street  clear  of  all  persons  having 
no  business  there.  If  they  resist,  put  them  under  ar- 
rest, and  turn  them  over  to  the  police  at  the  Southern 
Station.  Get  your  arms  from  that  pile." 

"So  ist  righdt,"  said  the  captain,  and  giving  a 
salute  he  marched  his  company  to  the  west  side  of 
the  hall  where  a  great  number  of  pick-handles  that 
had  been  sawn  in  two,  base-ball  bats,  and  wagon 
spokes,  had  been  arranged  in  convenient  stacks. 
Each  man  of  the  company  picked  up  a  club,  balanced 
it  in  his  hand,  and  brought  it  down  on  the  head  of 
an  imaginary  hoodlum  with  the  solemnity  of  a  pre- 
pared ritual.  Then  at  the  word  of  command  the  com- 
pany marched  out  while  others  were  receiving  their 
orders  from  the  desks  of  the  adjutants. 

I  had  observed  this  lively  scene  with  but  half  an 
eye,  shouldering  my  way  forward  to  meet  William 
T.  Coleman  as  he  descended  from  the  platform.  He 
had  talked  for  a  little  with  some  member  of  the  Com- 
mittee, but  as  he  came  down  the  steps  on  his  way  to 
the  side  room  that  served  as  a  private  office,  I  hailed 
him.  He  looked  up  quickly,  and  his  face  changed  as 
he  caught  sight  of  me. 

"Is  Kendrick  dead  ?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"No.   He  is  still  unconscious,  but  living." 

"What  is  the  trouble,  then?"  he  asked,  looking 
keenly  into  my  eyes.  "You  have  bad  news." 


372         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

Then  before  I  could  reply,  he  said,  "Come  in 
here,"  and  led  me  into  the  private  office.  "Now  let's 
hear  about  it,"  he  said. 

"The  Council  of  Nine  is  ready  to  use  its  rifles,"  T 
replied.  And  I  gave  with  rapid  phrases  the  tale  of 
the  imminent  revolution  as  it  had  come  from  Clark. 

William  T.  Coleman  listened  with  a  rapt  attention 
that  showed  he  took  the  warning  more  seriously  than 
I  had  taken  it. 

"Then  we  have  till  midnight,"  he  said,  after  he 
had  digested  the  information. 

"My  informant  said  that  the  rifle  clubs  are  ordered 
to  assemble  at  eleven  o'clock." 

He  looked  out  of  the  window  into  the  darkness ; 
then  he  turned  to  me  again. 

"It  will  never  do  to  let  those  men  come  together 
with  arms  in  their  hands.  That  would  mean  blood- 
shed— terrible  bloodshed.  I  am  using  every  effort  to 
prevent  an  appeal  to  arms.  I  have  refused  to  call  for 
the  militia.  The  National  Guard  is  under  arms,  but 
I  have  a  promise  from  Bryant  that  he  will  not  ask 
for  it  until  I  give  the  word.  I  have  refused  an  offer 
of  Federal  troops  from  the  Presidio.  I  have  a  note 
from  the  admiral  that  the  marines  and  sailors  at 
Mare  Island  have  been  put  under  arms,  and  that  the 
Pensacola  is  ready  to  take  a  position  that  will  com- 
mand the  city.  But  I  have  refused  to  permit  them  to 
be  summoned.  I  shall  never  summon  them  except 
as  a  last  resort.  It  is  an  awful  thing  to  have  men 
shot  down,  and  the  memory  of  such  an  affair  would 
be  a  lasting  stain  on  the  city." 


A    CALL   TO    ARMS  373 

"It  would  be  sad  to  have  innocent  men  killed,"  I 
said;  "but  I  shouldn't  weep  over  the  loss  of  some 
of  those  demons  I  saw  raiding  wash-houses  and  try- 
ing to  kill  Wharton  Kendrick.  The  world  would  be 
better  off  without  them." 

"Do  not  judge  them  too  hastily,"  said  Coleman 
quickly.  "Civilization  is  at  best  only  skin-deep. 
Scratch  the  civilized  man,  and  you  find  the  wild 
beast.  It  takes  a  little  deeper  scratch  to  find  it  in 
some  men  than  in  others;  but  it  is  there.  You  and 
I  think  ourselves  well-balanced,  Hampden,  yet  I 
have  seen  men  of  our  nature  turn  into  ferocious 
beasts.  I  pray  God  I  may  never  see  the  like  again. 
These  men  you  saw  in  the  shape  of  demons  the  other 
night  may  be  good  citizens  in  quiet  times.  Thank 
God,  young  man,  for  government.  It  is  the  blessing 
of  organized  society — of  organized  government — 
that  keeps  the  wild  beast  behind  bars."  He  spoke 
with  feeling,  yet  with  the  philosophic  calm  of  the 
lecturer  on  law,  and  he  impressed  me  profoundly 
with  his  momentary  unveiling  of  a  broad  and  toler- 
ant mind.  Then  he  became  the  man  of  affairs  again. 

"Do  you  know  where  to  find  the  headquarters  of 
the  Council  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  know  these  men  by  sight?" 

"I  believe  I  can  recognize  eight  of  the  nine." 

"Well,  then,  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  go  down 
to  the  Council's  headquarters  at  once,  and  arrest  the 
leaders  of  the  movement.  You  will  have  the  honor 
of  ending  the  uprising  before  it  has  begun." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

WITH   THE   PICK-HANDLE   BRIGADE 

If  I  had  stopped  to  consider  how  fully  the  safety 
of  Wharton  Kendrick — to  say  nothing  of  his  niece 
— depended  upon  me,  I  should  perhaps  have  found 
courage  to  decline  the  dangerous  mission.  But  Wil- 
liam T.  Coleman's  commanding  eye  was  upon  me; 
and  after  a  gulp  to  moisten  my  dry  throat,  I  replied 
with  an  attempt  to  put  a  cheerful  spirit  into  my 
voice : 

"Very  well;  but  I'd  like  to  take  a  man  or  two 
along — merely  as  a  guaranty  to  the  Council  that 
I'm  not  joking." 

Coleman  smiled. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  expect  you  to  go  alone.  Take  as 
many  men  as  you  like.  Will  twenty  be  enough  ?" 

I  thought  so. 

"Well,  then,  here  are  a  dozen  John  Doe  warrants. 
They  will  be  your  authority  for  whatever  you  may 
find  it  necessary  to  do  in  arresting  these  men.  Now 
come  out  here  and  pick  your  company." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  main  hall,  glanced  over  the 
throng  that  still  pervaded  it,  and  cried  in  a  resonant 
voice : 

"Volunteers  wanted  for  dangerous  service." 

His    discouraging    form   pf    statement    did   not 

374 


THE   PICK-HANDLE   BRIGADE      375 

dismay  all  of  the  company  before  him.  At  least  fifty 
men  stepped  forward  at  the  call. 

"Take  your  pick,"  said  Coleman  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand.  "If  they  haven't  revolvers,  I  will  supply 
them.  You'd  better  take  the  clubs  for  ordinary 
service." 

I  selected  a  score  of  men  whose  faces  showed 
vigor  and  determination,  looked  to  their  arms,  di- 
rected them  to  the  pile  of  pick-handles,  and  when 
each  man  had  satisfied  himself  of  the  virtue  of  his 
weapon  by  knocking  down  an  imaginary  enemy,  I  led 
the  way  to  the  street. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  asked  one  of  the  men 
with  the  easy  familiarity  of  the  volunteer. 

"Secret  service,"  I  replied.  "Don't  make  any  more 
noise  than  you  have  to."  If  we  were  to  arrest  the 
conspirators  without  bloodshed  it  was  necessary  to 
take  them  by  surprise,  and  we  approached  their 
meeting-place  with  as  much  caution  as  I  could  con- 
trive. 

The  House  of  Blazes  blinked  more  furtively  than 
ever  on  the  darkness.  The  outer  door  was  but  half 
opened,  and  the  lights  within  burned  but  dimly.  Yet 
a  faint  murmur  that  thrilled  the  air  gave  warning  of 
many  voices  in  converse,  and  stray  gleams  of  light 
from  the  shuttered  windows  above  bore  ample  wit- 
ness to  the  fact  that  there  was  hidden  activity  in  the 
den  of  the  revolutionists. 

I  posted  a  number  of  men  in  position  to  prevent 
escape  through  the  windows,  and  instructed  the 
remainder  to  await  my  signal  outside  the  main 


376         THE 'APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

entrance.  Then  pushing  open  the  swinging  door,  I 
entered  the  saloon. 

The  long  room  was  almost  deserted.  A  man  in  an 
apparent  stupor  sat  with  his  head  on  a  table  in  the 
dim  light  at  the  farther  end  of  the  place.  Another 
lay  on  a  bench  snoring  in  drowsy  intoxication.  A 
short,  round-faced  young  fellow  with  a  dirty  white 
apron  stood  behind  the  bar,  and  looked  up  with 
cheerful  expectancy  as  I  entered. 

"Take  me  to  the  Council,"  I  said  peremptorily.  "I 
am  just  from  Mr.  Parks." 

"The  Council !"  stammered  the  man.  "I  don't— I 
don't  know  what  you  mean." 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice,  the  fat  pasty  face  of 
H.  Blasius  appeared  through  the  doorway  at  the 
right  of  the  bar. 

"Ah,  Meestaire — Meestaire — friend  of  Park,"  he 
said,  recognizing  me  and  coming  forward.  "I  salute 
a  brozaire  in  arms."  And  he  would  have  embraced 
me  but  for  my  nimbleness  in  avoiding  his  odious 
clutch. 

"I  have  come  for  orders,"  I  said.  "I  must  see  the 
Council." 

"Ah,"  he  cried,  "you  have  come  to  give  your 
ar-rms  to  ze  inauguration  of  ze  gr-rand  r-revolu- 
tion."  And  he  rolled  out  his  "r's"  in  a  way  to  make 
the  revolution  very  grand  indeed. 

"I  have  brought  more  than  my  arms,"  I  said.  "I 
have  the  first  company  of  our  troops  outside." 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  cried,  his  pasty  face  growing 
paler,  and  his  blinking  eyes  opening  wider  in  alarm. 


THE    PICK-HANDLE    BRIGADE      377 

"Mon  Dieu!  You  have  come  mooch  too  soon.  Ze 
police  will  cast  ze  blow  of  an  eye  upon  zem,  ze 
alar-rm  will  sound,  and  Zip!  away  goes  ze  chance  of 
winning  by  surprise." 

"That's  so,"  I  exclaimed,  with  the  accent  of  one 
overwhelmed  at  conviction  of  a  lack  of  judgment. 
"I  will  bring  my  men  in  and  march  them  up  to  the 
Council-room  where  they  can  lie  hid  till  the  hour 
comes." 

"Non!  non!"  cried  H.  Blasius  in  alarm.  "No  one 
can  go  to  ze  Council-room.  Zere  is  no  Council- 
room."  His  old  distrust  had  overcome  the  alcoholic 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  had  received  me,  and  his 
eyes  blinked  cunningly  upon  me.  Then  he  gave  an 
apprehensive  glance  at  the  door  by  which  he  had  en- 
tered, and  I  was  confirmed  in  the  suspicion  that  it 
led  to  the  rooms  of  the  conspirators. 

"Well,  if  you  won't  take  me  up,  I  must  go  by  my- 
self. My  business  must  be  laid  before  the  Council  at 
once."  And  I  moved  with  determination  toward  the 
suspected  door. 

H.  Blasius  placed  himself  in  the  way  with  arms 
outstretched. 

"Non — non!"  he  cried.  "You  can  not  entrez  wiz- 
out  ze  mot  d'ordre — ze  password." 

"Give  it  to  me,  then,"  I  demanded.  "You  are  de- 
laying the  Council's  business." 

He  was  overawed  a  little  by  my  authoritative  tone, 
but  before  he  could  bring  his  tongue  to  answer  me, 
the  barkeeper  accidentally  dropped  a  glass  on  the 
floor,  and  the  men  whom  I  had  stationed  at  the 


378         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

door,  mistaking  the  crash  for  the  sounds  of  conflict, 
rushed  in  to  my  rescue. 

"The  Vigilantes !"  cried  the  barkeeper  in  dismay, 
at  the  sight  of  the  badges  and  the  pick-handles. 

"Mon  Dieu!  we  are  betrayed!"  cried  H.  Blasius, 
whirling  around  with  a  step  toward  the  door  that 
led  to  the  Council-room. 

I  divined  his  purpose.  He  was  bent  on  warning 
the  conspirators.  With  one  bound  I  had  him  by  the 
collar,  and  with  a  fierce  wrench  dragged  him  back 
and  flung  him  against  the  bar,  spluttering  inarticu- 
late protests. 

The  barkeeper  had  seized  a  revolver,  but  before 
he  could  raise  it,  he  was  in  the  hands  of  my  men.  He 
submitted  without  resistance  and  with  the  cheerful 
spirit  of  one  to  whom  the  outcome  is  a  matter  of 
small  importance. 

"Keep  that  man  quiet,"  I  said,  with  the  hope  that 
the  noise  of  struggle  had  not  reached  the  Council- 
room.  Then  I  gripped  H.  Blasius  by  his  fat  throat. 

"Give  me  the  countersign !"  I  demanded. 

He  gave  a  scream  of  terror  and  dropped  to  his 
knees. 

"Have  pity — do  not  keel  me.  Mon  Dieu!  I  am 
one  good  citizen.  I  make  no  plots  wiz  ze  r-revolu- 
tionists." 

"The  countersign,"  I  repeated  grimly,  tightening 
my  grip  on  his  throat,  while  two  of  my  assistants  re- 
inforced my  argument  by  prodding  him  in  the  sides 
with  their  sticks. 

"Leeberty— leeberty  or  deat',"— Mr.  H.  Blasius 


I  gripped  H.  Blasius  by  his  fat  throat 


Page  378 


THE    PICK-HANDLE    BRIGADE      379 

pronounced  it  "debt" — "zat  is  ze  countersign,"  he 
gasped  through  his  constricted  windpipe.  And  as- 
sured by  his  eyes  that  he  was  telling  the  truth,  I 
flung  him  into  the  arms  of  my  men. 

"Shut  off  his  wind  if  he  tries  to  give  a  warning," 
I  said,  and  with  a  word  I  picked  a  squad  from  my 
company  and  gave  them  brief  instructions : 

"Follow  me  up  the  stairs.  Don't  make  a  noise. 
And  when  I  give  the  signal  push  me  through  the 
door." 

A  dim  illumination  filtered  through  a  ground- 
glass  transom  at  the  top  of  the  stairway,  and  the 
murmur  of  voices  that  floated  down  gave  evidence 
that  a  busy  meeting  was  in  progress. 

I  walked  up  the  stairs  with  bold  step,  and  my  men 
crept  cautiously  after  me.  At  the  top  was  a  landing, 
large  enough  to  hold  my  squad,  and  I  signed  to  them 
to  collect  behind  me.  Then  I  gave  three  resounding 
blows  on  the  door — a  compelling  summons  that  I 
had  learned  as  a  lawyer's  clerk  in  serving  papers  on 
unwilling  defendants.  There  is  some  mystic  virtue 
in  the  slow  triple  knock  that  brings  the  most  wary 
from  their  holes.  At  my  rap  there  was  a  sudden 
hush  of  voices.  Then  some  one  by  the  door  cried : 

"Who  is  there?" 

"A  friend  you  are  expecting." 

"If  you  are  a  friend,  give  the  countersign." 

"Liberty  or  Death." 

At  this  reply  the  door  opened  cautiously  for  a  few 
inches,  and  a  man  peeped  through  the  crack. 

"Now!"  I  cried.   And  with  the  force  of  six  men 


380         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

behind  me  I  shot  forward,  flung  the  door  wide  open, 
and  sent  its  guardian  sprawling  backward,  as  I  was 
projected  a  dozen  feet  into  the  Council-room.  The 
room  was  large,  and  around  a  large  table  in  front  of 
a  pulpit-like  platform  sat  twelve  or  fifteen  men.  The 
Council  and  its  advisers  were  in  session. 

At  my  unceremonious  entrance  the  conspirators 
gave  a  prompt  exhibition  of  their  qualities.  Wal- 
dorf, Reddick  and  Seabert  sprang  to  their  feet,  and 
their  hands  went  to  their  pockets  with  the  evident 
purpose  of  drawing  their  revolvers.  Others  ran  from 
side  to  side  of  the  room,  wildly  seeking  some  way  of 
escape.  Two  crawled  under  the  table.  The  rest  re- 
mained motionless  in  their  chairs,  looking  with  dull 
apprehension  at  our  sudden  irruption. 

There  were  more  of  the  conspirators  than  I  had 
reckoned  on  meeting.  But  we  had  the  advantage  of 
surprise,  and  signing  to  two  of  my  men  to  hold  the 
door,  I  walked  calmly  forward  with  the  others. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said  to  the  startled  group,  "you 
are  under  arrest." 

"The  devil  we  are!"  cried  Waldorf,  snatching  a 
revolver  out  of  his  pocket  and  snapping  it  at  me. 

There  was  a  deafening  report,  and  a  bullet  clipped 
my  ear,  but  before  Waldorf  could  raise  the  hammer 
a  second  time  a  rap  from  a  pick-handle  laid  him 
sprawling  limply  across  the  table.  Reddick's  weapon 
was  knocked  from  his  hand  with  a  blow  that  broke 
his  wrist.  Seabert  was  seized  and  thrown  before  he 
could  get  his  revolver  out  of  his  pocket,  and  a  fiery 
little  German  in  spectacles,  who  shot  a  hole  in  his 


THE    PICK-HANDLE    BRIGADE      381 

coat  in  an  excited  attempt  to  draw  his  weapon,  fell 
limply  to  the  floor  and  squirmed  like  a  shot  rabbit 
at  a  skull-cracking  stroke  from  a  Vigilante's  club. 

It  was  after  all  but  a  tame  affair.  For  men  who 
were  planning  to  seize  a  city  and  overturn  a  nation, 
there  was  an  absurdly  small  supply  of  fighting  blood 
among  them.  The  sprawling  figure  of  Waldorf, 
lying  face  upward  on  the  table  with  the  blood  trick- 
ling over  his  forehead,  the  fiery  German  in  a  limp 
heap  on  the  floor,  and  the  sight  of  Reddick  and  Sea- 
bert  disabled,  took  all  the  fight  out  of  the  rest  of  the 
company.  They  submitted  without  resistance  to  be 
searched,  disarmed  and  bound. 

"Where  are  the  rifles?"  I  demanded,  when  these 
preliminaries  had  been  completed. 

"Don't  know  of  any  rifles,"  said  Seabert  sullenly. 
"Never  had  any." 

The  arrested  company  at  once  became  unanimous 
on  this  point.  There  were  never  any  rifles  in  their 
possession.  They  became  so  insistent  in  the  denial 
that  I  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the  arms  could 
not  be  far  away,  and  looked  about  for  their  hiding- 
place.  The  ornamental  work  behind  the  platform 
and  about  the  hall  gave  opportunity  for  concealed 
doorways  and  false  partitions,  but  when  they  were 
sounded  none  could  be  uncovered. 

"There's  room  for  them  under  that  platform,"  I 
said  at  last ;  and  by  the  falling  countenances  of  the 
conspirators  I  saw  that  I  had  hit  upon  the  hiding- 
place. 

The  flooring  was  ripped  off  the  platform,  and  we 


382         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

uncovered  something  more  than  four  hundred  rifles 
with  a  well-filled  cartridge-belt  strapped  to  each. 
Encouraged  by  this  success  we  ransacked  the  place 
to  discover  the  rest  of  the  Council's  armament,  but 
had  at  last  to  give  it  up  with  the  conclusion  that  the 
remainder  of  the  thousand  guns  had  already  been 
distributed  to  the  clubs. 

A  messenger  sent  in  haste  to  the  headquarters  of 
the  Committee  of  Safety  brought  a  train  of  express- 
wagons  with  orders  to  hurry  the  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion to  Horticultural  Hall,  and  send  the  prisoners  to 
the  City  Prison  and  Receiving  Hospital.  And  sta- 
tioning a  guard  to  receive  any  of  the  revolutionary 
spirits  who  might  come  seeking  the  Council's  in- 
structions, I  set  off  for  the  headquarters  of  the  Com- 
mittee of  Safety.  The  House  of  Blazes,  as  I  took 
my  last  look  at  it,  seemed  smothered  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  angry  discomfiture,  as  it  scowled  at  us  from 
its  blinking  windows,  fit  tomb  of  the  evil  purposes 
it  had  harbored. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

A   TONGUE   OF    FIRE 

We  had  reached  Union  Square  on  our  return  to 
the  Committee's  headquarters,  when  the  night  air 
burst  into  a  clangor  of  alarm.  There  was  a  sudden 
chorus  of  shrieking  whistles,  a  distant  tintinnabula- 
tion of  gongs,  and  the  great  bell  in  the  fire  house  on 
Brenham  Place  thrilled  the  air  with  its  tolling  vibra- 
tions. 

"Box  fifty-nine!"  cried  one  of  the  men  who  had 
counted  the  strokes.  "Where's  that  ?" 

"It's  the  Mail  docks,  I'll  bet!"  cried  another. 
"They've  been  threatening  to  burn  'em." 

I  turned  to  look,  and  the  guess  was  confirmed.  A 
glare  of  red  had  flamed  up  in  the  southeastern  sky, 
and  the  fire  was  already  under  good  headway. 

"It's  the  third  alarm,"  said  a  sentinel  who  stood 
by  the  corner.  "The  Committee's  been  sending  men 
down  there  already." 

The  sharp  cry  of  commanding  voices  echoed  from 
Horticultural  Hall,  men  were  climbing  into  express- 
wagons  and  hurrying  off  on  the  gallop,  and  our  way 
was  blocked  for  a  minute  by  a  company  that  marched 
rapidly  out  of  the  building,  quickened  its  pace  to  a 
run,  and  sped  down  Post  Street.  Instead  of  clubs 

383 


THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

they  carried  rifles,  and  I  surmised  that  the  armament 
of  the  Council  of  Nine  was  being  turned  against  the 
Council's  purposes. 

Within  the  hall  all  was  excitement ;  cries  of  com- 
mand rose  sharply  as  companies  were  assembled  by 
zealous  officers,  and  squads  were  marching  out  as 
rapidly  as  they  could  be  armed. 

William  T.  Coleman  met  me  by  the  door  of  the 
office. 

"Well,  it  seems  to  have  begun  at  last,"  he  said. 
"The  Mail  docks  have  been  set  afire,  and  the  report 
comes  that  the  Chinamen  down  there  are  being 
killed  by  a  big  mob." 

"There  was  talk  of  burning  the  City  of  Tokio 
with  the  thousand  coolies  it  has  brought,"  I  said, 
with  a  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  barbarities  that 
were  perhaps  being  enacted  on  the  threatened  dock. 

"The  Tokio  isn't  in  yet,"  said  Coleman.  "The  re- 
port of  her  arrival  was  a  mistake." 

"I  don't  believe  there's  any  real  fight  in  the  mob," 
I  said.  "We  have  just  cut  the  head  off  the  beast." 

Coleman  grasped  my  hand. 

"I'm  obliged  to  you  for  the  work  you  have  done," 
he  said.  "The  guns  you  sent  in  will  be  put  to  good 
use.  And  now  would  you  mind  taking  a  company 
down  to  the  docks  ?" 

"Not  at  all,"  I  returned  unhesitatingly,  resolved 
to  live  up  to  the  figure  I  had  assumed  in  his  eyes. 

"You  have  something  of  an  interest  down  there," 
he  added.  "Kendrick's  lumber-yards  are  right  near 
the  docks,  and  you  may  want  to  do  something  to 


A    TONGUE    OF   FIRE  385 

protect  them."  Then  turning  to  the  despatching  of- 
ficer, he  said :  "Put  Brixton's  company  under  com- 
mand of  Captain  Hampden.  Brixton  won't  be  back 
to-night." 

"I  should  like,"  I  said,  "to  add  to  it  the  men  I 
have  brought  back  from  the  House  of  Blazes.  In 
affairs  of  this  sort  it's  some  advantage  to  be 
acquainted  with  your  men,  and  we've  rubbed  shoul- 
ders to-night  in  a  way  that  is  better  than  an  intro- 
duction." 

Coleman  looked  at  the  dozen  men  who  lined  up  at 
my  call,  and  gave  a  nod  of  assent. 

"Enroll  Captain  Hampden's  volunteers  with  the 
company,"  he  said.  "That  will  give  him  about  sixty 
men.  Now  get  down  to  the  docks  on  the  double 
quick.  Remember  that  the  first  thing  to  be  looked 
out  for  is  the  fire-hose.  In  times  like  this  it  carries 
the  life-blood  of  the  city.  If  any  one  tries  to  cut  it, 
shoot  him."  And  with  this  curt  direction  he  waved 
us  forward. 

The  rosy  glow  that  illumined  the  southeastern 
sky  had  spread  and  deepened  since  we  entered  the 
hall.  The  ruddy  light  rose  and  fell  in  sudden  tides, 
as  the  eddying  clouds  of  smoke  reflected  or  obscured 
the  fierce  flames  that  leaped  below  them. 

The  sound  of  the  fire-bell  and  the  reddened  sky 
had  been  a  signal  to  other  ears  and  eyes  than  those 
of  the  Vigilantes.  Market  Street  was  a  hurrying 
stream  of  men  and  women  and  children,  carried 
along  by  a  common  impulse,  like  wreckage  on  flood 
waters.  Bands  of  young  hoodlums  rushed  down  the 


386         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

street  with  blackguardly  cries,  rudely  jostling  those 
who  neglected  to  make  way  for  them.  A  sibilant 
clamor  of  excited  voices  filled  the  air, — hoarse  shouts 
of  men,  yells  from  the  hoodlums  and  shrill  chatter 
from  the  women  and  children,  roused  by  the  thrill  of 
them. 

At  the  corner  of  Beale  and  Harrison  Streets  we 
were  halted  by  a  densely  packed  mass  of  people 
striving  vainly  to  press  forward  to  a  point  from 
which  they  could  get  a  closer  view  of  the  conflagra- 
tion, now  but  a  block  away.  The  roar  of  flames  could 
be  heard  above  the  volume  of  rattling  sound  that 
came  from  the  massed  confusion  of  firemen,  rioters, 
Vigilantes  and  spectators.  A  ruddy  glare  illumined 
the  great  throng.  Waves  of  heat  reached  us  even  at 
this  distance,  and  farther  down  the  street  we  could 
see  men  protecting  their  faces  from  the  burning  ef- 
fulgence by  holding  their  arms  before  their  eyes. 
The  great  furnace  sent  up  swift  peaks  of  flame  that 
fell  as  suddenly  as  they  rose,  and  gave  place  to  roll- 
ing clouds  of  smoke  that  turned  the  blaze  to  a  dull 
red  glow. 

Before  I  could  give  the  order  to  charge  a  passage 
through  the  crowd,  a  fire-engine  dashed  up  with  the 
clatter  of  galloping  horses,  the  wild  shouts  of  the 
firemen,  the  ringing  of  gongs  and  the  cries  of  the 
frightened  spectators.  The  throng  pressed  aside, 
and  by  some  magic  of  contraction  made  a  lane  for 
the  swift  horses  as  they  drew  the  engine  up  to  the 
hydrant.  At  this  moment  the  engine  across  Harrison 
Street,  that  had  been  whirring  away  with  convulsive 


A    TONGUE    OF    FIRE  387 

energy,  gave  vent  to  a  splutter  of  steam,  slowed 
down,  and  came  to  a  stop.  A  fireman  came  running 
over  to  the  newly  arrived  engine  from  its  fellow 
across  the  street,  scattering  in  his  train  an  eruption 
of  oaths  that  gave  a  verbal  effect  that  was  com- 
parable to  the  shower  of  sparks  from  his  engine. 

"Look  out  for  your  hose !"  he  shouted  wrathfully. 
"They've  just  cut  ours  again." 

"Where's  the  police?"  cried  the  captain  of  the  new 
engine,  as  he  gave  orders  to  couple  the  hose  to  the 
hydrant. 

"There's  one  policeman  to  the  block,  an'  if  he 
ain't  dead  he  ought  to  be,"  returned  the  wrathful 
engineer.  "They  was  talking  about  what  the  Vigi- 
lantes was  a-goin'  to  do,  but  I  ain't  seen  none  of 
'em.  I  reckon  they's  a-holdin'  a  promenade  concert 
up  to  Horticultural  Hall,  and  ain't  got  time  to  come 
down  here.  If  you  want  your  hoodlums  knocked 
out,  you'll  have  to  do  it  yourself."  And  running 
back  to  his  engine  he  suited  action  to  word  by  seiz- 
ing a  stick  and  clearing  a  space  about  it  with  fierce 
flourishes  and  fiercer  words. 

"Here  are  your  Vigilantes,"  I  shouted.  "Now  lay 
your  lines  of  hose  side  by  side,  and  I'll  see  that 
there's  no  more  cutting." 

"Well,  clear  the  track  for  us  then !"  cried  the  cap- 
tain with  a  volley  of  excited  oaths.  "Can't  you  see 
that  my  men  are  blocked  there  ?" 

I  stationed  half  my  company  by  the  engines, 
formed  the  other  half  into  a  wedge,  and  rushed  them 
down  the  hill.  They  plowed  a  wide  lane  through  the 


388         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

massed  throng,  and  the  firemen  ran  behind  them 
hauling  the  lines  of  hose,  and  howling  orders  and 
encouragement  at  every  step.  Along  the  path  I 
dropped  out  man  after  man,  with  instructions  to 
keep  the  crowd  back,  and  shoot  the  first  person  who 
attempted  to  touch  the  hose.  When  I  was  satisfied 
that  the  lines  were  secure,  I  followed  the  advance 
guard  down  the  slope  to  the  corner  of  Beale  and 
Bryant  Streets. 

Here  I  could  for  the  first  time  see  the  full  extent 
of  the  conflagration. 

A  bold  bluff  nearly  one  hundred  feet  high  at  First 
and  Bryant  Streets  diminishes  gradually  till  it  per- 
mits Beale  Street  to  descend  by  a  moderate  grade  to 
the  level  of  the  wharves.  Between  the  face  of  this 
bluff  and  the  docks  lay  a  medley  of  warehouses,  coal- 
bunkers  and  lumber-yards,  all  now  involved  in  a 
conflagration  that  turned  the  amphitheater  between 
the  bluff  and  the  bay  into  a  furnace  filled  with  toss- 
ing, leaping  flames  of  weird  diversity  of  color.  The 
warehouses  were  filled  with  sea  stores  and  the  spoil 
of  commerce  from  many  lands ;  one  was  stocked  with 
barrels  of  whale-oil  and  other  products  of  the  Arctic 
trade ;  and  over  them  all  flickered  red,  green,  orange 
and  yellow  flames,  in  endless  confusion.  The  coal- 
bunkers  gave  off  great  clouds  of  smoke,  while  the 
fiercest  flames  shot  up  from  the  oil  warehouses  and 
the  blazing  lumber-piles.  Now  and  then  a  dull  ex- 
plosion, followed  by  a  temporary  dimming  of  the 
light  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  furnace,  pointed  out 
the  location  of  the  oil ;  then  a  black  cloud  would  roll 


A   TONGUE    OF    FIRE  389 

up  and  drift  away,  and  in  a  moment  red  and  smoky 
flames  would  leap  three  hundred  feet  in  air  with  a 
vicious  eagerness  that  made  them  seem  almost  a 
sentient  agent  of  destruction. 

The  wharves  appeared  to  be  yet  untouched  by  the 
fire,  but  they  were  visibly  in  imminent  danger,  and, 
above  the  roar  of  the  flames,  the  shouts  of  the  fire- 
men and  the  clamor  of  the  crowd,  we  could  plainly 
hear  the  cries  of  the  sailors  as  they  strove  to  move 
their  vessels  from  the  perilous  neighborhood. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  heat  was  blistering. 
Planks  a  hundred  feet  from  the  blaze  were  smoking ; 
the  light  was  blinding,  and  even  the  boldest  of  the 
spectators  had  retired  half-way  up  the  hill.  Yet  two 
engines  had  been  pushed  forward  almost  to  the  bor- 
der of  the  flame-covered  area;  and  the  firemen,  at- 
tacking the  conflagration  with  reckless  energy,  could 
be  seen  dragging  their  hose  over  planks  that  still 
glowed  with  half-extinguished  embers. 

At  the  entrance  to  this  inferno  my  eye  was  caught 
by  a  reminder  of  difficulties  that  stirred  my  heart 
to  a  leap  of  apprehension.  A  long  sign-board  that 
had  been  set  across  the  gate  to  the  lumber-yards,  now 
twisted  and  ready  to  fall  from  the  half-burned  up- 
rights that  supported  it,  bore  across  its  face  the 
words,  "The  Kendrick  Lumber  and  Milling  Co." 
Another  of  Wharton  Kendrick's  activities  was  de- 
stroyed, and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  worth 
of  his  property  was  now  represented  by  a  few  acres 
of  roaring  flames.  For  a  minute  I  was  struck  mo- 
tionless with  the  fear  that  this  loss  might  prove  the 


390         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

final  blow,  and  bring  down  in  one  avalanche  the  ac- 
cumulated difficulties  that  I  had  evaded  or  post- 
poned. 

Then  I  was  roused  to  attention  by  the  words : 

"Here  is  the  man  who  can  tell  you  all  about  it; 
he's  the  one  that  turned  in  the  alarm." 

The  speaker  wore  the  badge  of  an  assistant  chief 
of  the  fire  department,  and  he  was  addressing  two 
young  men  who  held  pencil  and  paper  in  their  hands 
and  looked  eagerly  at  a  roughly  dressed  man  who 
seemed  to  be  dazed  at  the  destruction  that  was  going 
on  about  him. 

"Yes,  I'm  the  man,"  he  said  slowly.  "I'm  a 
watchman.  I  was  over  there  on  the  wharf — the 
Beale  Street  wharf.  A  while  ago — it  was  a  long 
time  ago — " 

"Never  mind  the  long  while  ago — tell  us  about 
to-night,"  interrupted  one  of  the  young  men  impa- 
tiently. 

"That's  what  I  was  telling  you  about,"  said  the 
man  in  an  injured  tone.  "It  was  a  long  while  ago 
— to-night.  I  looked  over  here  just  the  other  side 
of  that  oil  warehouse — there's  only  one  wall  left  to 
it  now — an'  I  saw  a  fellow  strike  a  match.  I  thought 
he  was  goin'  to  light  his  pipe,  but  he  took  a  box 
from  under  his  arm  an'  stuck  the  match  in  it.  The 
box  flared  up  as  though  it  was  full  o'  shavings,  an' 
then  he  stuck  it  under  a  lumber-pile.  I  hollered  at 
him,  an'  he  ran.  Then  the  fire  started  up,  an'  I  got 
to  the  fire-box  an'  turned  in  the  alarm.  Then  there 
was  hell  to  pay."  The  man  made  this  announcement 


A    TONGUE    OF    FIRE  391 

in  a  dull,  matter-of-fact  way  that  gave  a  touch  of 
comedy-in-tragedy  to  his  words. 

"What  sort  of  looking  man  was  he  ?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  he  was  an  oldish  man — an  old  man — tall, 
an'  sort  of  stooped." 

"Stout  or  thin?" 

"Thin,  I  guess — he  was  too  far  away  for  me  to 
say  for  sure,  an'  bein'  as  I  was  kind  of  flustered  by 
the  fire,  too." 

At  his  words  an  illuminating  light  came  to  my 
mind.  The  fire  was  not  directed  at  the  Pacific  Mail 
docks.  It  was  set  to  destroy  the  yards  of  the  Ken- 
drick  Lumber  and  Milling  Company,  and  it  had  suc- 
ceeded. It  was  the  crowning  stroke  of  Peter  Bolton's 
assault  on  Wharton  Kendrick's  fortune. 

I  wondered  whether  Peter  Bolton  had  himself  set 
the  match  to  the  lumber-pile.  The  description  by  the 
watchman  fitted  him,  and  he  did  not  lack  the  will  for 
the  deed.  But  it  was  so  foreign  to  his  cautious  tem- 
per to  take  the  risks  of  committing  such  a  crime  with 
his  own  hand  that  I  hesitated  to  believe.  Yet  when 
he  had  once  resolved  upon  such  a  step,  it  might  well 
have  seemed  safer  to  him  to  perform  the  act  himself, 
than  to  confide  it  to  an  accomplice  who  might  be- 
tray him. 

I  was  turning  over  this  problem  in  my  mind,  and 
watching  with  unconscious  eyes  the  bold  and  resolute 
efforts  of  the  firemen  to  fight  back  the  flames,  when 
I  was  roused  by  a  flight  of  stones.  Two  of  them 
struck  the  nearest  engine;  one  knocked  the  hat  off 
a  man  of  my  company;  and  a  fireman  was  struck 


392         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

down,  only  to  jump  to  his  feet  in  a  moment  with  a 
torrent  of  oaths.  The  fire  chief  roared  a  profane  but 
vigorous  condemnation  of  the  assault,  and  devoted 
its  authors  to  an  even  warmer  place  than  the  furnace 
that  blazed  before  us. 

"That's  the  fifth  time  we've  got  it,"  said  the  en- 
gineer, backing  up  his  chief  with  a  contribution  of 
blistering  words. 

I  looked  about  for  the  assailants. 

"It's  those  fellows  up  there  on  top  of  the  bluff," 
said  the  fire  chief.  "They've  been  pelting  the  fire- 
men and  the  police  for  half  an  hour.  They  can't 
reach  this  end  of  the  line  very  well,  but  they've  made 
it  hot  for  our  men  up  near  First  Street.  I  hear 
they've  killed  some  of  the  Vigilantes  up  there.  The 
Vigilantes  tried  to  rush  'em,  but  it's  up  a  hundred 
foot  of  narrow  stair,  and  they  had  to  give  it  up.  I 
wish  the  whole  gang  up  there  was  pitched  into  the 
middle  of  the  fire." 

I  looked  up  at  the  bluff,  and  saw  a  black  mass  lin- 
ing its  upper  edge.  Two  or  three  hundred  men  and 
boys  were  clustered  along  its  front,  yelling  and 
throwing  stones.  It  was  evident  that  their  position 
could  not  be  taken  from  the  front.  In  no  place  was 
there  less  than  fifty  feet  of  sheer  ascent.  But  I  re- 
called that  the  bluff  was  open  to  attack  from  the  rear 
by  the  way  of  First  Street. 

"I'll  settle  those  fellows,"  I  said. 

"I'll  see  that  you  get  the  department  medal,  if 
you  do,"  returned  the  fire  chief.  "But  you  can't  get 
up  there  without  wings." 


393 

After  stationing  guards  along  the  line  of  hose,  I 
still  had  twenty-five  men  who  could  be  spared  for 
other  service.  Most  of  them  were  still  standing  by 
the  engines  at  the  top  of  the  Beale  Street  hill.  So  I 
made  my  way  back  to  the  corner,  and  with  a  few 
words  explained  the  purpose  of  the  expedition  we 
were  about  to  undertake.  They  had  heard  the  re- 
port that  a  number  of  the  Vigilantes  had  been  killed 
by  the  hoodlums,  and  burning  with  indignation  they 
welcomed  the  chance  to  inflict  vengeance  on  the 
rioters. 

"Keep  together,"  I  cautioned  them,  as  we  pushed 
our  way  through  the  mob  of  sightseers  and  mis- 
chief-makers up  Harrison  Street  to  First.  Evil  faces 
in  the  crowd  gave  us  savage  glances  of  dislike.  But 
the  white  band  on  the  arm  that  marked  the  members 
of  the  Safety  Committee,  the  warning  word  of 
"Here  come  the  Vigilantes,"  and  the  display  of 
pick-handles,  served  to  discourage  the  thought  of 
molesting  us.  There  was  mass  enough  among  the 
rough  element  in  that  crowd  to  swallow  us  ten  times 
over,  but  they  knew  that  we  represented  the  force  of 
law  and  government,  and  the  rage  for  mischief  fell 
to  a  muttering  of  threats  as  we  passed. 

When  we  had  forced  our  way  through  the  mass 
of  sightseers  to  a  distance  of  fifty  yards  from  the 
edge  of  the  bluff,  there  was  a  sudden  shot,  followed 
by  an  answering  rattle  that  sounded  like  the  firing 
of  a  pack  of  giant  fire-crackers.  Screams  of  women 
and  shouts  of  men  reinforced  the  noise  of  the  guns, 
and  we  were  borne  backward  in  a  terrified  rush  of 


394         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  crowd.  The  infection  of  panic  was  hard  to  re- 
sist, but  I  succeeded  in  giving  a  steadying  word  to 
my  men,  and  they  breasted  the  current  till  the  ground 
cleared  before  us.  Then  I  saw  that  my  manceuver 
had  been  anticipated.  A  company  of  the  Vigilantes 
had  made  a  flank  attack  on  the  hoodlum  position 
from  the  west  by  way  of  Bryant  Street.  We  ran  for- 
ward to  reinforce  the  company,  and  I  offered  our 
services  to  its  captain. 

"They  fired  on  us,"  he  said,  "and  we've  cleaned 
'em  out,  I  guess.  Here's  one  fellow  shot,  anyhow. 
They've  been  throwing  rocks  down  on  the  firemen 
below,  and  knocked  out  half  a  dozen  of  them — 
killed  two  of  'em,  I  heard.  The  cowardly  brutes! 
Hunt  'em  out,  boys!  There's  some  of  'em  left  in 
those  yards  along  the  bluff." 

I  made  a  dash  along  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  and  was 
rewarded  by  flushing  a  half-dozen  hoodlums  who 
rose  from  behind  an  outhouse,  like  quail  from  a 
clump  of  bushes,  and  hastily  scrambled  over  a  fence. 
I  called  to  them  to  halt  or  we  would  shoot,  and  was 
over  the  fence  after  them  in  an  instant.  Most  of  my 
men  were  too  old  for  fast  work  of  this  sort,  but  a 
glance  behind  me  showed  that  half  a  dozen  had  fol- 
lowed me. 

The  hoodlums  had  led  the  way  to  a  cul-de-sac  of 
buildings,  and  were  cursing  as  they  scattered  here 
and  there  in  the  effort  to  find  a  way  out.  The  form 
and  voice  of  their  leader,  and  his  running  stride 
stirred  faintly  the  chords  of  memory.  I  tried  vainly 
to  recall  where  I  had  seen  him  before,  and  the  elusive 


A    TONGUE    OF   FIRE  395 

recollection  multiplied  my  desire  to  capture  him.  In 
this  resolve  chance  favored  me.  A  stumble  sent  him 
to  the  ground,  and  before  he  could  rise  I  was  on 
top  of  him,  and  held  a  revolver  against  his  head. 

"Damn  you !"  he  cried,  puffing  hoarsely  in  the  ef- 
fort to  regain  his  breath. 

"Take  it  quietly,"  I  advised  him,  "or  you'll  lose 
what  little  brains  you  have." 

"Damn  you!"  he  repeated.  "Let  me  up,  or  I'll 
kill  you."  " 

This  time  his  tone  and  words  stirred  memory  to 
definiteness.  I  had  in  my  hands  the  fellow  whose 
knife-thrust  had  been  near  ending  my  career,  and 
whose  gift  of  an  overcoat  had  led  me  to  Big  Sam 
and  the  train  of  events  which  followed  upon  my  visit 
to  the  King  of  Chinatown.  Here,  then,  was  an  agent 
of  Bolton,  and  perhaps  of  Big  Sam  as  well,  leading 
one  of  the  hoodlum  gangs  in  its  career  of  riot  and 
arson.  And  I  felt,  as  I  gripped  his  throat,  that  I 
had  within  my  hand  the  proof  of  Bolton's  criminal 
conspiracy.  If  this  man  could  be  got  to  talk,  the 
jail  would  close  on  Peter  Bolton  in  the  hour  of  his 
triumph;  and  the  furnace  that  roared  and  glowed 
below  us  would  bring  ruin  to  his  plans  as  swiftly  as 
it  had  consumed  the  property  of  his  enemy. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   END   OF   THE   FEUD 

At  last  the  night  of  alarms  was  over,  and  the 
forces  of  law  and  order  held  San  Francisco  firmly  in 
their  grasp.  The  police  and  the  Vigilantes  were 
fagged  out  but  triumphant.  And  though  the  ware- 
houses and  lumber-yards  in  the  amphitheater  before 
the  Mail  docks  were  but  a  smoking  mass  of  ashes 
and  charcoal,  the  dangers  of  the  conflagration  were 
over.  The  exhausted  firemen  were  withdrawn  to 
fling  themselves  down  to  rest,  and  only  a  few  hose- 
men  were  left  to  guard  the  smoldering  ruins. 

The  great  conspiracy  of  the  Council  of  Nine  had 
come  to  nothing.  Parks  was  the  only  leader  out  of 
jail,  and,  in  the  absence  of  its  active  heads,  the  revo- 
lution had  deliquesced  into  a  series  of  scattered  and 
objectless  riots.  The  Committee  of  Safety  had 
proved  strong  enough  to  handle  the  emergency,  and 
the  militia  companies,  held  all  night  in  their  armories 
without  a  call  for  their  services,  were  dismissed  with 
the  dawn. 

The  first  gray  of  the  morning  was  lightening  the 
eastern  sky  as  I  disbanded  my  company.  I  had 
landed  my  captive  in  the  City  Prison,  stubbornly  un- 
communicative, and  jauntily  confident  that  he  was 

396 


397 

to  be  protected  from  harm.  And  when  at  last  I  had 
made  my  report  at  the  Vigilante  headquarters,  I  was 
driven  to  Wharton  Kendrick's  home,  consumed  with 
anxiety  lest  some  of  the  wandering  bands  of  rioters, 
or  another  gang  of  bravoes  sent  by  the  highbinders, 
had  been  inspired  to  attack  it.  Peter  Bolton  had  suc- 
ceeded in  one  of  his  schemes  of  vengeance,  and  I 
trembled  lest  in  the  wreck  of  his  conspiracy  against 
the  peace  of  the  city  he  had  struck  another  blow  at 
the  person  of  his  enemy. 

As  we  turned  the  corner  into  Van  Ness  Avenue 
my  mind  was  relieved  of  one  anxiety.  The  Kendrick 
house  still  stood  untouched  by  fire,  and  the  gray 
dawn  showed  no  sign  of  further  attack. 

Andrews  received  me  with  composure. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  to  my  eager  questions, 
"there  'was  some  of  them  hoodlums  come  along  here 
— gangs  of  ten  or  twenty  at  a  time — and  they  yelled 
a  good  deal.  But  when  we  showed  our  teeth  they 
went  by  on  the  other  side.  There  was  some  shooting 
a  block  or  two  away,  but  they  didn't  even  throw  a 
rock  around  here." 

At  this  soothing  report  I  flung  myself  down  in 
the  men's  quarters  for  a  hurried  sleep,  dog-tired, 
but  gratified  to  feel  a  reviving  spring  of  courage. 
It  seemed  but  a  moment  later  that  I  saw  Laura 
Kendrick  threatened  by  the  largest  dragon  I  have 
ever  met — in  Dreamland  or  out.  The  uncanny 
monster  had  the  face  of  Peter  Bolton,  marvelously 
magnified  to  fit  a  hundred-foot  body,  and  he  opened 
his  mouth  in  sardonic  laughter  as  he  moved  forward 


398         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

to  crush  the  slight  figure  that  stood  in  his  path.  At 
this  sight  I  was  oppressed  by  a  modest  but  terrified 
conviction  that  I  would  cut  but  a  poor  figure  in  a 
contest  with  a  dragon.  But  spurred  by  fear  for  the 
life  of  the  most  important  girl  in  the  world  I  ran 
forward  shouting  out  such  threats  as  I  could  sum- 
mon, in  the  hope  of  communicating  some  of  my 
own  terrors  to  the  monster,  when  on  a  sudden  his 
boiler  blew  up,  and  he  was  scattered  into  nothing- 
ness. The  shock  of  the  explosion  waked  me,  and  I 
started  up  to  find  Andrews  at  my  side. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  knock  the  chair  over,  sir,"  he 
said  apologetically,  "but  you  told  me  to  call  you  at 
seven.  And  Miss  Kendrick  says  you  are  to  go  up- 
stairs to  breakfast,  as  soon  as  you're  ready." 

I  collected  my  faculties  sufficiently  to  make  my- 
self presentable,  and  was  received  at  the  door  by 
Laura  herself. 

"I'm  afraid,"  she  said,  as  she  ushered  me  into 
the  breakfast-room,  "that  it  doesn't  agree  with  you 
to  stay  up  all  night.  I  don't  believe  you've  had  a 
wink  of  sleep,  but  I've  made  some  coffee  that's  war- 
ranted to  bring  you  wide  awake  before  you  can  shut 
your  eyes." 

"If  that's  the  way  I  look,  my  personal  appearance 
is  a  libel  on  a  peaceful  citizen.  I  have  slept  for  close 
on  three  hours,  and  have  dreamed  of  acres  of  fires, 
and  enough  fighting  to  fill  a  book." 

"Ugh !"  exclaimed  Miss  Laura.  "I  don't  see  why 
men  so  like  to  fight.  Do  you  take  two  lumps  in  your 
coffee  or  three  ?" 


THE    END    OF    THE    FEUD         399 

"The  explanation  is  very  simple,  I  returned. 
"They  don't  like  to  fight.  One  lump,  please." 

'Then  what  do  they  do  it  for?"  she  asked.  "You 
had  better  take  more  than  one  chop;  they're  pretty 
small,  and  you've  got  a  big  day's  work  ahead — and 
behind." 

"Why,"  I  argued,  "they  fight  for  power,  or  repu- 
tation, or  money,  or  a  pair  of  brown  eyes — or  blue, 
as  the  case  may  be — for  fear  somebody  will  think 
them  afraid — for  anger — for  almost  any  reason  but 
enjoyment.  I  saw  ten  thousand  men  in  a  scrimmage 
last  night,  and  there  were  not  twenty  of  them  there 
because  they  enjoyed  the  fight.  At  any  rate,  I  can 
assure  you  that  the  man  in  the  crowd  I  have  the  best 
right  to  speak  for  wished  himself  anywhere  but  in 
the  front  rank  of  battle." 

"Humph!"  sniffed  Miss  Laura  incredulously.  "I 
know  very  well  that  you  couldn't  have  been  hired 
to  keep  out  of  it.  You  haven't  been  doing  much  else 
but  fighting  since  I  got  to  know  you." 

"It  wasn't  from  choice,"  I  pleaded. 

"Just  tell  me  what  happened,  and  how,"  she  said. 
"I  was  scared  blue  last  night  with  fire-bells  and 
hooting  whistles,  and  men  shouting  in  the  streets; 
and  when  I  peeked  out  I  saw  a  glare  down  town  as 
though  half  the  city  was  going  up  in  smoke." 

Laura  listened  with  a  grave  face  as  I  gave  a  suc- 
cinct account  of  the  night's  adventures. 

"And  do  you  really  believe  that  Mr.  Bolton  set 
fire  to  uncle's  lumber-yards?"  she  asked. 

"In  person  or  by  proxy,"  I  replied. 


400         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Well,  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  end  to  his 
wickedness,"  she  said.  "I  suppose  he's  prepared  to 
finish  us  to-day." 

"I  don't  think  we  can  count  on  repentance — not 
from  him.  We  shall  have  to  find  something  a  great 
deal  safer  than  that  to  pull  us  through.  Has  your 
uncle  dropped  any  more  hints  about  that  million 
dollars?" 

"He  talked  of  it  more  than  ever,  last  night.  He 
went  over  the  word  'million'  hundreds  of  times. 
Then  he  would  call  your  name  and  say  'five-sixteen' 
as  though  he  was  trying  to  make  you  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  figures." 

It  was  an  incomprehensible  mystery,  and  we  had 
to  leave  it  so. 

"Do  you  know  what  you  are  going  to  do,  then?" 
she  asked. 

"Sell  all  the  unpledged  stock  in  the  house,  see 
what  Partridge  and  Coleman  can  do  for  us,  and  try 
to  stand  up  the  banks  for  the  balance." 

Laura  Kendrick  shook  her  head,  with  a  business- 
like expression  on  her  face : 

"I  wish  I  could  think  of  something  better  than 
that,"  she  said  with  an  attempt  at  cheeriness.  "We 
shall  never  get  through  the  day  at  that  rate.  But  I 
suppose  it's  the  best  that's  left  us." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mercy  Fillmore  appeared. 
The  sudden  intrusion  of  a  third  person  brought  to 
my  consciousness  a  realization  of  the  fascinating 
breakfast  I  had  been  conceded.  But  if  I  was  so  un- 
gallant  as  to  feel  disappointment  at  her  interrupting 


THE    END    OF   THE    FEUD         401 

presence,  it  melted  away  under  the  soothing  in- 
fluence that  surrounded  her. 

"What  a  night  we  have  had!"  she  said,  with  an 
anxious  note  in  the  gentle  harmonies  of  her  voice. 
"We  were  worse  frightened  at  the  fire-bells  and  the 
shouting  of  men  in  the  distance  than  at  the  drunken 
hoodlums  who  passed  by  the  house.  Was  there  much 
fighting?" 

"Enough — but  nothing  to  be  frightened  about." 

"If  there  was  violence,"  said  Mercy,  with  a  trace 
of  anxiety  in  her  tone,  "I  am  afraid  that  Mr.  Parks 
was  among  the  misguided  men.  Did  you  see  any- 
thing of  him?" 

"No,"  I  replied.  "He  escaped  arrest  wfien  the 
Council  of  Nine  was  gathered  in,  for  he  was  making 
a  speech  on  the  sand-lot.  I  inquired  for  him  at  the 
City  Prison  and  the  Receiving  Hospital,  but  he 
wasn't  there,  so  I'm  sure  he  must  have  escaped." 

Mercy  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Well,  Mercy,"  said  Laura  Kendrick,  "if  you 
expect  men  to  have  any  sense  about  such  things, 
you  are  going  to  be  disappointed.  They  are  fighting 
animals — at  any  rate  some  of  them  are — and  the 
best  we  can  do  is  to  have  a  good  supply  of  lint  and 
arnica  on  hand,  and  read  books  on  the  best  way  of 
treating  wounds  and  bruises." 

But  a  few  minutes  later  she  had  forgotten  this 
sentiment  of  resignation,  for  when  I  set  out  for  the 
office  to  prepare  for  the  onslaught  that  must  come 
with  the  opening  of  the  business  hours,  her  parting 
injunction  was  to  "Leave  the  business  of  the  police 


402         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

to  the  police,  and  don't  let  the  Kendrick  family  go 
to  ruin  by  getting  yourself  knocked  on  the  head  in 
some  harum-scarum  expedition." 

I  found  Brown  already  at  work,  and  his  haggard 
face  showed  that  he  shared  in  the  keen  anxieties  of 
the  day. 

"This  is  a  bad  business,  Mr.  Hampden,  a  bad 
business,"  he  sighed.  "Four  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars' worth  of  lumber  went  up  in  that  fire  last 
night." 

"Didn't  we  have  any  insurance  on  it?" 

"Why,  yes — we  had  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand on  it.  But  we  had  borrowed  that  much  on  the 
stock,  and  the  bank  holds  the  policy.  I  was  hoping 
to  get  some  more  money  on  the  lumber  to-day,  but 
that  chance  has  gone."  Brown  shook  his  head  and 
sighed  as  though  his  courage  had  fallen  to  a  low 
ebb,  and  added :  "I'm  afraid  every  creditor  we  have 
will  be  down  on  us  now." 

"How  much  shall  we  have  to  meet  ?"  I  asked. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell,"  he  groaned.  "Mr.  Ken- 
drick has  been  so  careless  about  giving  out  his  notes 
without  having  them  entered  on  the  books  that  I 
can't  say.  I  think  there  are  about  two  hundred  thou- 
sand of  unsecured  notes  out,  but  there  may  be  a  mil- 
lion, for  all  I  know." 

"How  much  money  have  we  in  hand  ?" 

"It's  not  much.   Not  over  twenty  thousand." 

"How  much  can  we  get  if  we  drop  that  con- 
founded load  of  stock  we  are  carrying  ?" 

"Oh,  if  we  could  unload  it  without  breaking  the 


THE    END    OF   THE    FEUD         403 

price  it  would  stand  us  something  like  two  or  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  after  paying  off  all  loans 
on  it.  But  it's  a  ticklish  market — a  ticklish  market. 
If  we  start  to  throw  the  stock  out,  there  will  be  a 
slump  that  will  wipe  out  our  margins  and  leave  us 
on  the  wrong  side  of  the  ledger." 

"I'll  see  what  can  be  done  about  it.  Perhaps  Part- 
ridge can  get  the  stock  taken  into  stronger  hands. 
Can  you  think  of  anything  else  that  we  can  turn 
into  money?" 

"There's  just  one  thing  I  have  remembered  since 
yesterday.  The  Oriental  Bank  let  us  have  a  hun- 
dred thousand  on  those  Humboldt  lumber  lands  a 
while  ago.  The  lands  ought  to  be  good  for  as  much 
more  if  the  Oriental  is  lending  at  all." 

"That  sounds  as  though  there  might  be  something 
in  it.  I'll  see  the  Oriental  Bank  people  at  once — 
Partridge,  too.  If  we  can  get  a  hundred  thousand 
from  the  bank,  and  get  our  margins  out  of  those 
stocks,  we  shall  have  a  fair  chance  of  weathering 
the  storm."  As  I  turned  to  go,  I  bethought  me  to 
say,  "Don't  pay  out  a  dollar  that  you  can  possibly 
hold  on  to." 

Brown  gave  his  head  a  deprecating  shake. 

"That  won't  do,  Mr.  Hampden.  You  see,  we're 
tied  up  to  our  open-handed  way  of  doing  business. 
Now,  if  we  were  acting  for  Peter  Bolton,  it  would 
be  different.  When  he  tells  a  man  to  call  again  for 
his  money,  nobody  thinks  anything  about  it.  They 
just  say  he's  a  skinflint,  who  could  pay  and  won't. 
But  you  know  how  Wharton  Kendrick  has  run  his 


404          THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

business.  Whenever  a  man  wants  his  money,  he  gets 
it  as  fast  as  it  can  be  counted  out.  There's  the  trouble 
now.  If  we  go  to  asking  for  time,  or  putting  them 
off,  why  everybody  will  say:  'Aha!  Kendrick  is  in 
difficulties;  I  always  thought  he  would  go  under.' 
And  every  account  that  stands  against  us  would  be 
in  before  noon." 

I  had  to  admit  that  he  was  right,  and  sallied  forth 
to  the  Oriental  Bank.  The  president  received  me 
genially,  when  I  announced  myself  as  the  ambassa- 
dor of  Wharton  Kendrick,  and  threw  up  his  hands 
in  good-humored  refusal  when  I  told  what  I  wanted. 

"You  couldn't  get  a  cent  on  that  property  to- 
day, if  the  trees  were  made  out  of  gold,  Mr.  Hamp- 
den,"  he  said.  "Property  outside  the  city  is  worth 
nothing  to  us.  To  be  frank  with  you,  we  should  feel 
easier  if  we  had  the  money  out  of  the  last  loan  we 
made  you  people.  I'll  make  you  a  first-class  offer: 
Pay  the  principal,  and  I'll  strike  off  the  interest." 

Partridge  was  hardly  more  encouraging  than  the 
president  of  the  Oriental  Bank.  He  promised  to  be- 
stir himself  to  find  some  one  to  take  the  stock,  but 
confessed  that  he  was  unable  to  suggest  a  buyer. 
And  I  was  forced  to  turn  toward  the  office  once 
more  with  a  feeling  akin  to  desperation. 

The  atmosphere  about  the  business  district  was 
not  of  a  quality  to  reassure  the  despondent.  Al- 
though the  banks  and  exchanges  had  not  yet  opened 
for  business,  I  could  hear  everywhere  the  buzz  of 
apprehension.  Frightened  traders  hurried  along  the 
streets  with  eyes  eloquent  of  their  fears;  anxious 


THE    END    OF   THE    FEUD         405 

holders  of  stocks  gathered  in  groups  about  Pine  and 
Montgomery  Streets,  with  pale  and  troubled  faces, 
as  they  began  their  curbstone  trading;  and  there 
were  signs  of  storm  indicating  that  we  should  have 
a  worse  day  before  us  than  any  that  we  had 
weathered. 

As  I  reached  the  Merchants'  Exchange,  I  came 
upon  William  T.  Coleman,  and  he  greeted  me  with 
an  air  that  warmed  my  spirit. 

"That  was  a  good  piece  of  work  you  did  last 
night,  Hampden,"  he  said.  And  I  blushed  under  the 
commendation  as  proudly  as  though  I  were  a  soldier 
of  the  Grand  Army  called  out  to  receive  the  ribbon 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  from  the  hands  of  the 
Great  Napoleon. 

"We  suppressed  the  riots  last  night,"  I  replied, 
"but  the  people  don't  seem  to  know  it.  I  see  more 
anxiety  among  the  business  men  this  morning  than 
at  any  time  yet." 

"It's  absurd,"  said  Coleman  abruptly.  "I  can't 
understand  why  they  should  take  that  tone.  The 
danger  is  over.  We  have  the  situation  perfectly  in 
hand.  Men  are  signing  the  rolls  by  the  hundred 
now.  We  shall  have  the  city  so  thoroughly  guarded 
to-night  that  not  even  a  rat  can  come  out  of  the 
sewers.  It's  nonsense  to  talk  of  panic  conditions,  as 
some  of  these  fellows  are  doing.  By  the  way,  how 
are  Kendrick's  affairs?  He  had  a  bad  loss  last 
night." 

I  did  not  hesitate  to  describe  the  difficulties  of  the 
position. 


406         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"I'll  see  if  something  can't  be  done  for  you,"  he 
said.  "If  I  had  a  little  more  time  I  could  arrange  it, 
I  am  sure,  but  I  have  my  hands  pretty  full  now.  As 
it  is,  I  can't  be  of  much  help  to  you  till  to-morrow." 
And  he  passed  on. 

There  was  a  stimulating  influence  in  his  tones, 
and,  though  I  had  little  confidence  in  his  power  to 
arrange  for  aid,  his  words  sent  me  back  to  the  office 
in  better  spirits.  I  had  need  of  all  my  courage,  for 
Brown  met  me  with  word  that  the  money  was  going 
out  rapidly,  and  that  without  a  turn  in  the  tide  we 
should  not  last  beyond  noon. 

"God  bless  you,  Hampden !"  cried  a  familiar  voice 
as  I  entered  the  waiting-room.  "I  was  wondering 
whether  some  of  your  long-haired  Bedlamites  hadn't 
got  you  and  hanged  you  to  your  own  lamp-post." 
And  the  fiery  face  of  General  Wilson  beamed  at  me 
with  lively  interest  as  he  hastened  forward  to  grasp 
my  hand.  "How's  Kendrick  coming  on?  I  see  by 
the  papers  that  you've  been  having  the  devil  of  a 
time  here." 

I  admitted  the  plutonic  nature  of  the  city's  recent 
activities,  as  I  led  General  Wilson  into  the  private 
office. 

"I've  been  in  Stockton,"  said  General  Wilson 
with  explosive  energy.  "To  tell  the  truth,  I  went 
up  to  file  that  contract  for  the  sale  of  the  tule  land. 
I  didn't  know  how  Kendrick's  affairs  were  going 
to  turn  out,  so  I  didn't  lose  any  time  getting  it  on 
record.  I've  never  been  caught  napping  yet,  and  it 
wouldn't  do  to  begin  at  this  late  day.  Now,  how 


THE    END    OF   THE    FEUD         407 

are  things  going  ?  Will  Kendrick  pull  through,  or  is 
he  up  against  the  wall  ?" 

My  heart  misgave  me  at  having  Wharton  Ken- 
drick's  business  on  the  tongue  of  this  loquacious 
boaster,  and  I  was  of  a  mind  to  deliver  to  him  the 
same  cheery  lie  that  I  had  poured  into  the  ears  of  a 
dozen  inquisitive  acquaintances.  But  I  remembered 
the  substantial  proof  of  friendly  interest  that  he  had 
already  shown,  and  thought  it  better  that  I  should 
once  moie  be  frank  with  him. 

General  Wilson  shook  his  head  with  sympathetic 
concern  when  I  had  finished  my  tale. 

"That  has  a  bad  look,"  he  said.  "You  can't  get 
through,  unless  you  get  help.  Now  if  it  was  only 
fifty  thousand,  why,  I  would  strain  my  authority  so 
far  as  to  let  you  have  it — or,  by  Jove,  I'd  advance  it 
out  of  my  own  pocket,  to  help  Wharton.  But  the 
chances  are  that  you'll  want  ten  times  that  amount, 
so  I  can't  risk  it.  You  can  count  on  my  services, 
though,  if  you  have  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  cred- 
itors. I'm  famous  for  managing  such  affairs,  and 
in  Chicago  they  have  a  joke  about  Wilson's  Elixir 
Vitae  for  Broken-down  Corporations.  If  the  busi- 
ness stops,  I  can  put  it  on  its  feet,  if  anybody  can. 
Why,  I've  managed  twenty  big  failures  if  I've  man- 
aged one,  and  I  brought  'em  all  through  with  flying 
colors.  It  wasn't  three  years  ago  that  I  was  called 
in  to  help  Seymour,  Peters  and  Blair.  They  had 
failed  for  four  million,  and  their  affairs  were  in  the 
devil  of  a  tangle.  I  wouldn't  have  touched  the  thing 
for  money,  but  I  couldn't  resist  the  pleading  of  my 


408         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

old  friend  Seymour.  He  came  to  me  crying  like 
a  baby,  and  was  ready  to  blow  his  brains  out  if  I 
failed  him.  So  I  took  hold,  worked  like  a  beaver 
for  three  weeks — night  and  day — got  the  creditors 
to  scale  their  claims  and  take  six-,  nine-  and  twelve- 
months' notes,  and  had  the  concern  going  smoothly 
inside  of  thirty  days.  To-day  you'll  find  Seymour, 
Peters  and  Blair  one  of  the  soundest  firms  in  Chi- 
cago. Why,  I've  reorganized  three  railroads, 
and—" 

General  Wilson's  flow  of  reminiscence  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  sudden  entry  of  Brown.  I  saw  by 
his  distressed  face  as  he  beckoned  me  that  a  crisis 
had  arrived. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked.  "You  can  speak  before 
General  Wilson.  He  is  our  counsel  now." 

"The  El  Dorado  Bank  has  just  presented  notes 
for  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,"  he  gasped. 

The  El  Dorado  Bank!  I  had  no  need  of  second 
sight  to  tell  me  from  whose  hand  the  blow  had  come. 
Peter  Bolton  had  brought  together  another  packet 
of  Wharton  Kendrick's  paper,  and  had  put  it 
through  the  bank  for  collection.  My  heart  sank, 
and  my  face  must  have  grown  as  long  and  white 
as  Brown's.  Was  the  game  up  at  last?  Had  the 
struggle  ended  in  defeat? 

"I'm  afraid  you're  going  to  need  my  services," 
said  General  Wilson  with  a  shake  of  his  head. 
"Send  out  a  hurry  call  to  Kendrick's  friends,  and 
if  they  don't  come  to  time,  I'll  see  you  through  a 
meeting  of  the  creditors."  General  Wilson  spoke 


THE    END    OF   THE    FEUD         409 

with  professional  cheerfulness,  as  though  he  would 
convince  me  that  a  meeting  of  the  creditors  was  one 
of  the  pleasurable  experiences  of  life. 

As  he  spoke,  the  door  opened,  and  I  was  startled 
to  see  Laura  Kendrick  enter.  Her  face  was  flushed, 
and  excitement  sparkled  in  her  eyes.  She  paused 
irresolute,  as  she  saw  the  two  men  with  me,  and  I 
jumped  to  my  feet  and  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"Am  I  too  late?"  she  gasped. 

"Too  late?"  I  echoed  in  wonder. 

"For  the  money — uncle's  money,  you  know !"  she 
cried  impatiently,  as  she  saw  no  sign  of  comprehen- 
sion on  my  face. 

"Why,  I  guess  we  can  let  you  have  whatever  you 
need,"  I  said.  "It  had  better  go  to  you  than  to  the 
creditors'  attorneys." 

"No — no !"  she  cried,  grasping  my  arm  and  look- 
ing up  in  my  face,  "I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean  the 
money  that  uncle  put  away.  It's  in  the  safe  deposit 
vaults." 

"The  safe  deposit  vaults!"  I  cried,  grasping  her 
meaning  at  last.  "Why  didn't  I  think  of  that?" 

"I  ran  as  soon  as  I  heard  the  words,"  she  said. 
"Am  I  in  time?" 

"To  the  minute,"  I  said.  And  at  the  words  she 
sank  into  a  chair  with  the  reaction  from  the  stress 
of  anxiety. 

Brown  knew  nothing  of  any  safe  deposit  vault, 
so  with  a  hasty  word  of  explanation  to  General  Wil- 
son, I  seized  my  hat,  and  said  to  Laura : 

"You  had  better  come  over  with  me." 


410         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"I  suppose  I'd  best  go,"  she  said.  "It's  a  feeling 
I  have,  and  as  I  don't  have  such  inspirations  very 
often  I'd  better  obey  this  one." 

"How  did  you  find  out  about  the  money?"  I  asked 
as  we  descended  the  stairs. 

"Why,  uncle  got  dreadfully  uneasy  this  morning, 
and  I  couldn't  quiet  him.  He  went  over  and  over 
his  words — 'million/  and  'notes/  and  'five-sixteen' 
— and  sometimes  he  called  your  name,  and  some- 
times he  called  for  Mr.  Brown,  and  he  was  much 
vexed  that  you  didn't  understand  him.  Then  about 
half  an  hour  ago  he  cried  out  angrily,  'Go  over  to 
the  safe  deposit  and  get  it.  Why  don't  you  do  as  I 
tell  you?'  At  that  I  flew,  and  here  I  am."  And  she 
looked  up  in  my  face  with  an  anxious  smile. 

The  safe  deposit  building  was  but  half  a  block 
away,  and  we  were  soon  in  the  office.  There  was  a 
minute  or  two  of  consultation  between  the  officials 
when  I  had  delivered  my  credentials  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  Wharton  Kendrick.  Then  one  of  them 
asked : 

"Have  you  the  key  number  of  the  box?" 

I  was  nonplussed  for  the  moment,  but  Laura 
Kendrick  whispered : 

"Remember  the  number  he  has  been  calling  out 
for  the  last  two  nights." 

"Five-sixteen,"  I  replied  confidently. 

The  guardians  of  the  treasure-house  bowed,  led 
me  to  the  vaults  and  at  my  demand  unlocked  the 
box. 

At  the  top  of  the  miscellaneous  papers  that  the 


THE    END    OF    THE    FEUD         411 

box  contained  were  two  book-like  packages,  both 
marked  with  the  inspiring  figures  "$500,000."  I 
tore  off  the  wrapping  of  the  larger  package.  It  was 
filled  with  gold  notes  of  large  denominations,  and 
the  slip  that  bound  them  was  indorsed  "For  the 
Syndicate."  The  other  package  proved  to  be  filled 
with  United  States  bonds.  It  was  all  clear  now. 
Wharton  Kendrick  had  deposited  his  contribution  to 
the  syndicate's  fund  in  this  box  instead  of  in  the 
special  account  in  the  Golconda  Bank,  and  had  pro- 
vided here  his  reserve  of  securities  with  which  to 
meet  the  outstanding  notes. 

Laura  Kendrick  exclaimed  with  delight  at  the 
sight  of  this  wealth. 

"Is  it  all  there  ?"  she  cried. 

"Yes.  Here  is  the  full  million  he  has  been  talking 
about,  and  there  seem  to  be  more  securities  in  the 
box.  You  have  saved  the  day  for  us.  We  should 
have  gone  to  wreck  without  you,"  I  replied. 

"Well,  I've  been  fuming  and  fretting  all  these 
days  because  I  was  so  useless,  but  now  if  you'll  take 
me  to  the  carriage  I'll  go  home  with  my  self-respect 
quite  restored." 

"It  was  you  that  made  the  battle  worth  while,"  I 
murmured. 

My  return  to  the  office  brought  an  outburst  of  joy. 
At  my  announcement  of  the  result,  Brown  jumped 
up  with  an  enthusiastic  whoop,  and  lumbered  about 
the  room  with  awkward  capers.  Then  he  checked 
himself  suddenly,  and  very  shamefacedly  begged 
my  pardon. 


412         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"I  haven't  done  that  since  I  was  a  boy,  sir,"  he 
said.  And  I  believed  him. 

With  the  business  once  more  on  a  solid  basis,  I 
walked  over  to  Partridge's  office  to  relieve  his  anx- 
iety on  the  subject  of  Wharton  Kendrick's  solvency. 
He  had  gone  to  the  Exchange,  and  I  followed  him 
thither. 

Pine  Street  was  still  thrilling  with  the  energy  of 
a  steam-engine  working  at  high  pressure.  Waves  of 
excitement  agitated  the  crowds  that  hung  about  the 
entrance  of  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  there  was  the 
familiar  succession  of  roars  and  barks  with  which 
the  traders  in  stocks  find  it  necessary  to  transact 
their  business.  Yet  I  thought  I  saw  a  weakening 
of  interest  among  the  speculators — a  lessening  of 
the  tension  among  the  excited  men  who  were  fol- 
lowing the  course  of  the  market.  I  leaped  to  the 
hope  that  the  crisis  was  passing. 

As  I  reached  the  steps  of  the  Exchange  the  con- 
fused roar  of  the  crowd  was  interrupted.  Three 
short,  sharp  explosions  crackled  upon  the  air  with 
staccato  distinctness  and  the  clamor  hushed  for  a 
moment  with  a  suddenness  as  startling  as  the  shots 
themselves.  A  dozen  yards  down  Pine  Street  a  thin 
cloud  of  blueish  smoke  rose  and  drifted  away  on 
the  morning  breeze. 

For  a  moment  the  crowd  surged  back  as  though 
in  fear,  and  I  saw  a  bent,  white-bearded  man  stand- 
ing with  a  revolver  in  his  hand,  looking  down  at  a 
prostrate  something  on  the  pavement.  A  few  trail- 
ing threads  of  smoke  floated  up  from  the  revolver's 


THE    END    OF    THE    FEUD         413 

muzzle.  Then  there  was  a  forward  rush,  and  the 
crowd  closed  in;  but  in  that  momentary  glimpse 
I  had  recognized  the  bent  form  and  dreamy  face  of 
Menvin. 

The  hush  gave  way  to  shouts.  Men  were  run- 
ning from  all  directions.  The  crowd  pushed  closer. 
Windows  overlooking  the  place  were  suddenly  filled 
with  excited  observers,  questions  were  eagerly  ex- 
changed, and  the  cry  rose : 

"Peter  Bolton  has  been  shot!" 

At  the  name  of  Bolton  the  blood  bounded  through 
my  arteries  with  suffocating  force,  and  I  pushed  my 
way  through  the  throng  with  feverish  energy.  When 
I  broke  through  the  ring  that  surrounded  the  pros- 
trate form,  a  policeman  was  just  laying  his  hands 
on  Merwin,  and  raising  his  club  as  if  to  strike  him. 
The  old  man  handed  his  revolver  to  the  officer,  and 
cried : 

"I  am  Merwin.  He  has  robbed  me  of  my  money 
for  twenty  years,  and  he  said  I  should  die  a  beggar. 
And  I  shot  him !" 

On  the  pavement  lay  Peter  Bolton.  His  hands 
were  pressed  to  a  reddening  circle  on  his  coat,  and 
his  face  was  drawn  into  an  expression  of  anxious 
fear.  As  I  bent  over  him,  a  look  of  recognition 
flashed  into  his  eyes.  And  even  in  the  pangs  of  dis- 
solution a  sardonic  smile  drew  down  the  corners  of 
his  mouth,  while  has  sarcastic  voice,  reduced  in  vol- 
ume till  it  was  scarcely  more  than  a  whisper,  drawled 
painfully : 

"You've  missed  your  chance,  Hampden.    You'll 


414         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

never  get  rich  now.  I  fought — you  all — and  I've 
beat — you  all." 

He  paused  in  weakness,  and  the  murmur  of  voices 
about  me  filled  my  ears.  There  was  scarce  a  sympa- 
thetic tone  to  be  heard,  and  thrice  the  words  floated 
to  me: 

"It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  get  it  before." 

Peter  Bolton  had  lived  without  good  will  to  man, 
and  he  was  dying  without  man's  regret.  He  sum- 
moned up  his  failing  energies  and  continued : 

"If  I  had  another  day,  your — man— Kendrick — 
would — be — smashed!"  The  last  word  was  spoken 
almost  as  a  hiss.  Then  the  blood  welled  up  in  his 
throat,  and  with  a  convulsive  effort  to  rise  he  fell 
back  and  was  still. 

The  Bolton-Kendrick  Feud  was  over. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE    BROKEN    WEB 

With  the  death  of  Peter  Bolton  there  was  an 
immediate  slackening  of  the  tension  in  the  commer- 
cial exchanges.  The  shock  of  his  sudden  end  turned 
men's  minds  for  a  little  from  the  market-place,  and 
when  they  turned  back  it  was  not  the  same.  The 
enginery  of  evil  that  he  had  set  in  motion  to  crush 
Wharton  Kendrick  ran  slower  and  slower,  and  at 
last  came  to  a  stop. 

"The  El  Dorado  Bank  has  thrown  up  the  sponge/' 
said  Partridge  when  I  met  him  at  noon.  "They  were 
acting  for  Bolton  more  than  for  themselves  in  this 
deal.  Now  that  the  old  fox  has  gone,  they  have  lost 
stomach  for  the  fight." 

And  with  this  assurance,  I  walked  the  street  with 
the  buoyancy  of  heart  that  follows  a  hard-won  vic- 
tory. 

I  was  still  in  exultant  frame  of  mind  when  I  came 
a  few  minutes  later  upon  the  personification  of 
Gloom.  It  was  Parks.  His  mouth  was  drawn  down 
into  an  expression  of  somber  weariness  of  the  world. 
A  piece  of  court-plaster  ornamented  his  cheek;  and 
his  right  eye  was  swollen  and  discolored  until  it  re- 
sembled nothing  so  much  as  an  overripe  tomato. 

415 


416         THE    APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?"  I  asked  with  exuber- 
ant spirit.  "You  look  like  the  day  after  the  fight." 

He  looked  resentfully  at  me,  with  a  sad  shake  of 
the  head. 

"Sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  is  unfair  to  jest.  I  have 
suffered  the  burial  of  my  hopes.  I  am  done  with 
the  affairs  of  life." 

"What!"  I  cried.  "Have  you  given  up  the  revo- 
lution? Have  you  abandoned  the  battle  for  the 
rights  of  the  people  ?" 

"The  people  be  damned!"  responded  Parks  an- 
grily. "Why  should  I  give  my  life  to  fight  for  those 
who  won't  fight  for  themselves?  Why  should  I 
scheme  for  the  slaves  who  have  not  the  sense  to  fol- 
low the  leaders  who  point  the  way  to  emancipation  ? 
We  perfect  our  plans  to  free  them  from  the  oppres- 
sions of  a  capitalistic  government,  and  when  we  call 
on  them  to  take  arms  and  follow  us  they  fall  to  rob- 
bing Chinamen.  When  I  appeal  to  them  to  follow 
me  to  the  City  Hall  instead  of  the  wash-house,  the 
response  I  get  is  a  black  eye.  That's  my  reward  for 
devotion  to  the  rights  of  the  people." 

"It  must  have  been  a  most  demonstrative  meet- 
ing," I  replied  without  a  trace  of  sympathy,  "and 
it  did  one  good  thing,  for  it  knocked  some  sense  into 
you." 

"Hampden,"  said  Parks,  with  a  lofty  air  that 
made  a  comic  contrast  with  his  flaming  eye,  "I  for- 
give you  the  expression.  But  I  assure  you  I  retract 
nothing  of  my  views.  What  I  have  learned  is  that 
the  great  era  for  which  I  have  worked  can  not  be 


THE    BROKEN    WEB  417 

brought  about  by  men  who  understand  neither  their 
wrongs  nor  their  rights.  We  must  educate  them 
until  they  see  the  truth." 

"Oh,  then  I  suppose  you  are  on  your  way  to  the 
City  Hall  to  get  your  leather-lunged  orator  out  of 
jail  to  resume  his  teachings  ?" 

Parks  flushed  angrily. 

"Kearney?"  he  cried.  "He  can  rot  in  his  cell  for 
anything  I  will  do  to  get  him  out.  I  refuse,  sir,  to 
voice  the  suspicions  that  I  have  been  forced  to 
entertain,  but  he  is  a  hindrance,  not  an  aid  to  the 
cause  of  the  people.  They  must  be  taught  the  large 
truths,  not  the  little  truths,  if  they  are  to  act  wisely. 
Let  us  not  mention  his  name." 

I  left  Parks  at  the  corner  of  Kearny  and  Mer- 
chant Streets,  and  walking  down  to  the  door  of  the 
City  Prison,  applied  for  permission  to  see  the  pris- 
oner I  had  captured  in  the  final  riot  above  the  Mail 
docks.  The  death  of  Peter  Bolton  made  it  likely 
that  I  could  induce  him  to  answer  the  questions  he 
had  flouted  the  previous  night. 

I  was  admitted  without  difficulty,  and  found  the 
cages  filled  with  scores  of  men  herded  together  into 
brutal  contiguousness. 

It  was  impossible  to  examine  the  prisoner  before 
these  cell-mates,  but  by  the  exercise  of  diplomacy 
I  secured  the  privilege  of  talking  with  him  in  the 
comparative  quiet  of  the  Receiving  Hospital.  The 
man  was  brought  shambling  in,  cast  an  impudent 
glance  at  me,  and  then  looked  sullenly  at  the  floor. 
His  pale  face  and  sunken  eyes  and  cheeks  betrayed 


418         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

the  opium  smoker,  and  his  manner  was  that  of  the 
hoodlum. 

"You  had  better  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,"  I 
exhorted  him.  "I  suppose  you  know  that  Bolton  is 
dead." 

"Yep,"  he  said  uneasily.  "The  old  rooster  that 
done  for  him  was  in  here.  He  didn't  look  like  he'd 
nerve  enough  to  kill  a  cat." 

"Well,  I  warn  you  that  you  have  no  one  to  protect 
you  now,  and  your  only  chance  of  getting  off  with 
a  light  punishment  is  to  answer  my  questions  and  tell 
the  truth." 

"Ask  what  you  like,  cully,"  he  replied  with  an 
impudent  leer.  "You  can  bet  I'm  too  fly  to  give  up 
anything  I  ain't  wanting  you  to  know.  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to  split  on  the  man  that  paid  me,  even  if  he  has  gone 
to  the  morgue.  I'm  game,  I  am."  And  he  straight- 
ened himself  with  a  pitiful  exhibition  of  the  crimi- 
nal's pride. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid  of  giving  away  Bol- 
ton's  secrets,"  I  said.  "I  know  more  about  them 
than  you  do."  And  I  mentioned  several  incidents  of 
his  employment  that  made  his  eyes  open  and  his 
face  pale  with  the  fear  that  he  was  caught  beyond 
escape.  "What  I  want  you  to  tell  me  is  what  Bolton 
was  doing  with  Big  Sam  ?" 

The  spy  looked  sullenly  at  the  floor,  and  shook 
his  head.  And  it  was  not  until  I  had  threatened  to 
put  a  charge  of  attempt  to  murder  against  him  that 
he  replied : 

"Well,  I  don't  see  as  there's  any  harm  in  tipping 


THE    BROKEN    WEB  419 

it  off  to  youse  on  that.  The  old  rat's  game  was  to 
get  Big  Sam  to  put  up  money  for  them  crazy  bunko- 
men  on  the  Council  of  Nine.  He  done  it,  too.  I'll 
bet  he  got  the  coolie  to  put  up  as  much  as  he  gave 
himself." 

"Did  you  take  the  money  from  Big  Sam  to  Bol- 
ton?" 

"Me  ?  Not  much !  They  was  too  fly  to  let  me  get 
my  nippers  on  it.  I  was  plain  messenger-boy — 
that's  what  I  was — and  I  carried  a  lot  of  talk  about 
what  the  Council  was  going  to  do.  You  knows  all 
that  game.  If  youse  want  it,  I  can  give  youse  a  yard 
of  it  now." 

I  could  well  believe  that  this  creature  was  not 
trusted  with  any  of  the  purposes  that  these  men  had 
in  their  alliance.  So  I  turned  to  the  question : 

"What  was  that  Chinese  paper  in  the  pocket  of 
the  overcoat  you  left  with  me  that  night  you  tried 
to  kill  me  when  I  chased  you  out  of  Mr.  Kendrick's 
yard?" 

"Oh,  youse  is  the  feller  that  got  that  coat,  are  you  ? 
Well,  that  paper  was  just  an  order  or  ticket  that 
would  let  me  into  Big  Sam's  tong  house  when  the 
tong  was  meeting — so  as  I  could  see  him  without 
losing  time.  It  wasn't  no  use  to  me ;  but  Big  Sam  let 
on  he  was  giving  me  first  cousin  to  the  Mint  when 
he  passed  it  over." 

Nothing  more  was  to  be  got  out  of  this  man,  so 
I  left  the  fetid  prison,  and  followed  up  the  line  of 
inquiry  by  seeking  Big  Sam. 

I  found  him  just  entering  the  store  that  led  to  his 


420         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

dwelling.  He  received  me  with  courtesy,  but  there 
was  a  trace  of  suspicion  in  his  eyes  as  he  invited  me 
to  follow  him  to  his  office. 

"I  suppose  I  do  not  bring  news  in  telling  you  that 
our  mutual  acquaintance,  Mr.  Peter  Bolton,  is  no 
more,"  I  said,  as  we  entered  the  oriental  hall.  In 
that  room  with  its  intricate  ornamentation,  its  gro- 
tesque carvings  and  garish  hangings,  Peter  Bolton 
and  the  troubled  city  of  San  Francisco  seemed  thou- 
sands of  miles  away,  and  I  felt  like  a  traveler  in 
Cathay,  who  had  come  overseas  bearing  news  of 
distant  countries. 

"You  are  not  the  first  to  tell  me,"  said  Big  Sam. 
"I  had  the  regret  of  hearing  it  some  hours  ago." 

"It  was  a  sad  loss  to  the  Council  of  Nine,"  I  said, 
watching  narrowly  if  the  name  brought  any  change 
of  expression  to  his  face.  But  no  shadow  crossed 
the  yellow  mask  with  which  he  concealed  his 
thoughts. 

"I  am  not  familiar  with  Mr.  Bolton's  relations 
with  society,"  said  Big  Sam  blandly.  "But  I'm  sorry 
to  have  lost  a  good  customer." 

It  was  hopeless  to  study  that  changeless  mask — 
hopeless  to  seek  to  match  the  Oriental  in  guile.  So 
I  abandoned  the  task  and  asked  bluntly : 

"Now  that  Peter  Bolton  is  dead,  and  the  Council 
of  Nine  is  in  jail,  and  the  conspiracy  is  smashed  be- 
yond repair,  would  you  mind  telling  me  why  you 
contributed  money  to  such  a  harebrained  scheme?" 

"Your  question  makes  an  unwarranted  assump- 
tion," said  Big  Sam  dryly.  "I  know  nothing  about 


THE    BROKEN    WEB  421 

contributing  money  to  Councils  of  Nine,  or  other 
harebrained  revolutionists." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "you  need  not  fear  that  I  am  asking 
this  in  the  character  of  a  public  prosecutor.  It  is 
merely  a  feeling  of  private  curiosity.  In  protecting 
Mr.  Kendrick's  affairs  I  have  learned  most  of  the 
inside  history  of  the  movement.  And  I  should  really 
like  to  know  what  led  a  man  of  your  intelligence  to 
further  a  cause  that  was  apparently  so  opposed  to 
his  interests." 

Big  Sam  looked  at  me  in  silence  with  calm  and 
unflinching  gaze  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  I 
suspected  that  the  expediency  of  my  mysterious  dis- 
appearance was  canvassed  behind  the  inscrutable  veil 
of  his  eyes.  Then  a  sarcastic  smile  stole  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  and  he  said : 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you.  I  must  plead  ig- 
norance of  the  circumstances  you  mention.  If  Mr. 
Bolton  was  the  representative  of  criminal  or  trea- 
sonable designs,  I  do  not  know  it.  But  if  it  will  be 
of  any  assistance  or  satisfaction  to  you,  I  will  de- 
scribe a  hypothetical  case.  Let  us  suppose  that  an 
harassed  race  had  found  an  insecure  footing — say  in 
Sumatra.  Suppose  that  the  head  man  of  this  harassed 
race  had  been  approached  by  the  leader  of  a  revo- 
lutionary party,  with  whom  he  had  been  in  business 
relations.  This  leader,  or  backer,  or  whatever  you 
wish  to  call  him,  we  may  suppose,  insists  on  the 
prospects  of  success  of  the  revolutionary  movement 
— enlarges  on  the  certainty  of  disturbances  to  come 
among  the  classes  of  the  people  most  opposed  to  this 


422         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

alien  race,  and  urges  its  head  man  to  raise  up  friends 
in  the  revolutionary  party  by  a  contribution  of 
money.  I  put  it  to  you,  Mr.  Hampden,  would  it  be 
worth  this  man's  while — in  Sumatra,  you  under- 
stand— to  pay  enough  to  secure  toleration  for  his 
race,  in  case  its  enemies  came  into  possession  of  the 
government?" 

"Candidly — since  you  ask  my  opinion — it  was  the 
most  unpromising  investment  I  could  have  sug- 
gested." 

Big  Sam  was  so  far  nettled  by  my  judgment  on 
his  hypothetical  case  that  he  dropped  his  diplomatic 
pretense,  and  said: 

"A  judgment  after  the  fact,  Mr.  Hampden,  when 
it  is  easy  to  be  wise.  Yet  even  now  it  is  not  difficult 
to  see  that  bitterness  and  division  have  been  sown 
among  the  enemies  of  my  race.  Action  against  us 
has  been  postponed  for  years — perhaps  for  all  time. 
The  mass  of  your  people — especially  beyond  the 
mountains — are  shocked  at  the  excesses  of  the  past 
week,  and  will  oppose  the  demands  made  by  your 
disorderly  classes.  Like  all  the  weak,  we  must  con- 
quer by  the  division  of  those  who  could  harm  us. 
The  division  has  come." 

"I  think  you  mistake  its  extent,"  I  said.  "The 
riots  may  have  roused  a  prejudice  in  the  Eastern 
States  against  the  demand  for  the  exclusion  of  your 
race.  But  it  is  only  a  temporary  check.  It  will  not  be 
five  years  before  there  is  a  law  on  the  statute  books 
forbidding  the  coming  of  your  people." 

Big  Sam  looked  over  my  head,  with  the  far-away 


THE    BROKEN    WEB  423 

gaze  of  one  who  was  looking  to  the  distant  future. 
Then  he  sighed  and  spoke : 

"Perhaps  you  are  right.  You  must  understand  the 
temper  of  your  people  much  better  than  I.  But  it 
will  be  as  it  will.  If  we  are  permitted  to  come  un- 
checked, we  shall  build  up  on  this  coast  a  great 
Chinese  State  that  will  change  the  face  of  the  world. 
We  are  adaptable,  as  you  know.  We  are  arming 
ourselves  with  the  methods  and  machinery  of  west- 
ern progress.  Put  a  state  of  ten  million  of  Chinese 
on  this  coast,  and  from  this  vantage  point  we  shall 
break  down  the  barriers  between  Orient  and  Occi- 
dent, put  the  productive  forces  of  the  West  into  the 
hands  of  my  people  in  China,  add  what  is  best  in 
your  life  to  the  superior  qualities  of  our  institutions, 
and  make  China  the  leader  instead  of  the  hermit  of 
the  world." 

Big  Sam's  face  was  calm  with  the  self-possession 
of  his  race,  as  he  described  this  vision,  but  his  eyes 
glowed  with  magnetic  fire,  and  his  voice  thrilled 
with  enthusiasm  as  he  spoke. 

"A  magnificent  plan — but  there  are  difficulties,"  I 
said. 

"Difficulties,  yes — but  only  such  as  the  intellect 
and  energy  of  man  may  overcome.  The  old  order 
in  China  is  tottering  to  its  fall.  The  dynasty  of 
usurpers  is  held  in  place  only  by  the  arm  of  the  for- 
eigner. Its  strength  is  typified  by  its  head — a  child 
and  a  woman!"  Big  Sam  spoke  thus  of  the  baby 
Emperor  and  the  Empress  Dowager,  with  an  in- 
finite scorn.  "It  needs  but  the  man  with  the  resources 


424         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

behind  him  to  rouse  China  to  herself — to  show  to 
the  nations  a  new  and  magnificent  civilization — more 
splendid  and  solid  than  the  world  has  ever  seen." 

I  was  stirred  to  admiration  at  his  dream. 

"I  believe,"  I  said  heartily,  "that  you  are  the  man 
to  do  it,  if  it  could  be  done  by  a  single  man.  But  I 
warn  you  now  that  the  white  race  will  never  sur- 
render California,  except  at  the  compulsion  of 
arms." 

Big  Sam  sighed  again,  but  his  face  retained  its 
impassive  calm. 

"In  that  case  I  shall  live  and  die  a  Chinese  mer- 
chant— Big  Sam,  the  King  of  Chinatown,  as  your 
people  are  kind  enough  to  call  me." 

There  was  something  of  pathos  in  this  descent 
from  the  heights  of  his  great  projects.  He  had  given 
me  a  glimpse  of  the  purposes  nearest  his  heart,  had 
shown  me  something  of  the  real  man  that  lay  be- 
hind the  disguise  of  his  impassive  face  and  every-day 
pursuits.  But  he  closed  the  door  of  his  soul  with  a 
sudden  contraction  of  his  eyes,  and  said  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  tone : 

"And  now  are  you  tired  of  the  girl  I  intrusted  to 
you  ?  Is  she  still  a  convalescent  ?" 

"Why,  we  have  no  thought  of  surrendering  her," 
I  said,  in  some  surprise  that  he  should  renew  the  sub- 
ject. "She  is  improving  rapidly.  She  is  able  to  walk 
about,  and  is  considered  a  most  tractable  patient." 

"That  is  very  satisfactory,"  began  Big  Sam,  but 
I  interrupted : 

"There  is  only  one  question  agitating  us  about  her. 


THE    BROKEN    WEB  425 

She  seems  so  much  above  the  women  of  your  race 
we  see  about  us  that  we  should  like  to  know  some- 
thing of  her  history." 

Big  Sam  bowed  courteously,  as  though  I  had  of- 
fered him  a  compliment. 

"I  see  that  you  are  looking  for  a  romance,"  he  said. 
"Well,  possibly  I  can  gratify  you.  I  had  supposed 
myself  that  she  sprang  from  a  low  parentage — or  at 
highest  from  the  shopkeeper  class — though,  as  you 
say,  she  seems  much  above  the  Chinese  women  you 
are  privileged  to  see.  She  came  hither  from  an  or- 
phan home  in  Canton,  and  was  said  to  be  of  un- 
known parentage.  I  have  made  further  inquiries, 
however, and  have  just  received  a  letter  from  a  friend 
in  Canton  with  a  few  details  that  may  please  you. 
The  girl  is  the  daughter  of  a  mandarin,  descended 
from  a  long  line  of  scholars.  But  her  father,  mother, 
brothers  and  all  known  relatives  perished  in  the 
plague,  their  fortune  was  confiscated,  and  the  girl — 
then  an  infant — was  turned  over  to  the  keeping  of 
the  orphanage." 

"That  is  very  interesting.  Is  there  any  chance  of 
establishing  her  rights  ?" 

"Not  the  slightest.  But  you  will  be  glad  to  hear 
that  I  shall  soon  have  a  home  for  her  among  her 
own  people."  Big  Sam  was,  as  usual,  coming  to  his 
point  by  indirection. 

"I  trust  it  is  one  you  can  recommend,"  I  said 
bluntly. 

"It  is  one  that  exactly  fills  the  conditions  under 
which  the  girl  was  taken,"  he  responded  dryly.  "A 


426         THE   APPLE    OF   DISCORD 

reputable  man  of  her  own  race — a  merchant — 
wishes  to  make  her  his  wife." 

"He  is  well-to-do,  I  assume." 

"Naturally,  or  he  would  not  be  able  to  meet  the 
demands  of  the  tongs." 

"Has  he  another  wife  ?"  I  asked,  with  mistrust  of 
the  Chinese  domestic  arrangements. 

"None." 

"In  that  case,  I  think  he  may  be  ready  to  offer  his 
credentials  in  something  less  than  a  month." 

"He  will  find  it  difficult  to  repress  his  impa- 
tience," said  Big  Sam  gravely.  "He  is  a  widower." 

And  with  a  bow  of  ceremony  he  dismissed  me. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  ANSWER 

The  duties  of  the  day  were  at  last  done,  and  I 
turned  toward  the  Kendrick  house  with  a  lively 
sense  of  my  obligation  to  relieve  the  anxieties  that 
might  still  be  felt  in  that  household.  The  afternoon 
had  been  taken  up  with  the  fag  ends  of  our  business 
complications,  and  darkness  had  set  in  before  I  could 
leave  the  office.  The  streets  were  quiet,  and,  except 
for  the  Vigilante  patrols,  were  almost  deserted. 

As  I  neared  my  destination  a  large  man  halted 
me  with  a  raised  pick-handle,  and  said : 

"Vere  go  you,  mine  vrendt  ?  Don'd  you  petter  go 
home?" 

I  laughed  and  showed  him  my  committee  badge. 

"That's  where  I'm  going.  And  I  hope  you  will 
have  a  quieter  time  than  they  gave  us  last  night." 

"Oxcuse  me,"  said  the  Vigilante.  "I  mine  orders 
obey,  and  mine  block  of  hoodlums  kept  swept." 
And  with  a  good  night,  I  hastened  on  my  way  to  the 
Kendrick  place. 

I  found  Laura  and  Mercy  together. 

"Well,"  said  Laura  graciously,  "I'm  glad  to  see 
that  you  have  kept  out  of  the  fighting  for  one  little 
while.  I  was  supposing  that  you  were  down  on  the, 

427 


428         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

Barbary  Coast  getting  your  head  smashed.  Take 
that  big  easy-chair ;  it's  the  softest,  and  I'm  sure  you 
ought  to  appreciate  it  after  all  the  knocks  you've 
had." 

"Oh,  it  looks  as  though  there  was  no  more  fight- 
ing to  be  done.  The  hoodlums  have  taken  to  their 
holes,  and  the  Vigilante  pick-handles  rule  the  city." 

"Well,  if  it's  all  over  it  will  be  a  great  relief  to 
my  mind,"  she  replied.  "And  I  suppose  you'll  be 
glad  to  hear  that  uncle  is  better.  He  has  come  to 
his  senses  again,  and  I've  set  his  mind  at  rest  about 
the  business,  and  Doctor  Roberts  says  he  will  be  out 
in  a  few  weeks." 

"Well,  all  our  troubles  are  coming  to  an  end  at 
once  then,"  I  said  with  a  lightened  spirit. 

"Yes,  I  got  your  note  saying  that  the  worst  was 
over,  and  the  business  safe.  It  was  good  of  you  to 
send  it.  That  was  a  shocking  thing  about  Mr.  Bol- 
ton.  He  was  an  old — well,  I  won't  say  what,  for  he's 
dead  and  gone — but  I  believe  I  feel  sorry  for  him, 
after  all." 

"Yes,"  said  Mercy,  with  a  grave  nod,  "whomever 
he  injured,  we  know  that  it  was  himself  he  injured 
most  of  all.  What  will  they  do  with  Mr.  Merwin  ?" 

"They've  turned  him  loose  already.  The  commit- 
ting magistrate  called  it  justifiable  homicide,  which 
is  bad  law,  though  there's  some  elemental  justice 
about  it,  and  the  crowd  carried  Merwin  out  of  the 
court  on  their  shoulders.  The  Grand  Jury  may  take 
it  up,  but  Bolton  was  not  a  popular  character,  At 
any  rate  Merwin  is  free  now." 


THE   ANSWER  429 

"Well,  he  is  a  much  injured  man,"  said  Laura, 
"though  I  don't  see  that  he  has  bettered  himself. 
And  now  what  did  you  mean  in  your  note  about 
having  a  very  important  communication  from  Big 
Sam  ?  I  have  some  curiosity  left  after  all  the  excite- 
ment." 

"It's  highly  interesting.  Moon  Ying  turns  out  to 
be  the  long-lost  daughter  of  a  Somebody.  Also  Big 
Sam  has  a  suitor  for  her  hand." 

"Who  is  he?  What  is  he?"  came  in  a  breath  from 
the  two  girls. 

"A  merchant,  a  Chinaman  and  a  widower,"  I  re- 
plied. And  then  I  gave  them  the  information  that 
Big  Sam  had  confided  to  me. 

"Well,"  said  Laura  decisively,  "that's  very  inter- 
esting about  Moon  Ying's  family,  but  I  don't  see 
that  it  can  do  her  much  good.  And  that  widower 
can  come  up  here,  and  we'll  lock  him  over.  I  can 
tell  you  right  now  that  he  will  have  to  pass  a  very 
rigid  examination,  and  he  shan't  have  Moon  Ying 
unless  she  wants  him." 

"Hm-m !  I  suspect  he  will  have  to  acquire  some 
new  ideas  on  the  qualifications  of  an  expectant  hus- 
band, and  I'm  afraid  he's  rather  old  to  learn." 

"Well,  if  the  ideas  are  new  to  him,  it's  time  he 
learned  'em,"  said  Laura,  "and  if  he's  too  old  to 
learn,  why,  so  much  the  worse  for  him.  He  can  go 
back  where  he  came  from." 

"Yes,"  said  Mercy  quietly,  "if  it  is  to  be  worse  for 
him  or  worse  for  her,  why,  he  is  the  one  who  must 
give  way." 


430         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  in  a  fair  way  to  upset  the 
whole  scheme  of  Chinese  domesticity,"  I  said. 

"Well,  it's  high  time  it  was  upset,"  returned 
Laura.  "And  if  I'm  not  much  mistaken,  Moon 
Ying  has  learned  a  thing  or  two  since  she  has  been 
here  that  will  upset  it  for  at  least  one  household.  So 
Mr.  No-Name  Chinaman  had  better  be  preparing  his 
credentials  and  studying  up  to  pass  his  examina- 
tions." And  she  thereupon  gave  such  a  list  of  quali- 
fications for  a  possible  husband  for  Moon  Ying  that 
I  was  disposed  to  condole  with  Big  Sam's  candidate 
on  his  chances  of  election  to  the  blessed  state  of 
matrimony. 

Mercy  Fillmore  expressed  a  somewhat  less  exalted 
ideal  of  the  suitor  who  would  fill  the  measure  of 
Moon  Ying's  maiden  fancies,  though  I  was  certain 
that  it  was  one  that  would  astonish  the  celestial 
widower.  And  then  in  sudden  concern,  lest  her  pa- 
tients should  be  in  need  of  her  attention,  she  excused 
herself,  and  Laura  and  I  were  left  alone. 

For  a  little  time  she  was  silent,  gazing  dreamily 
at  the  floor,  and  I  was  content  to  watch  her  without 
speech.  The  storm  and  stress  of  the  past  few  weeks 
had  given  something  more  of  womanliness  to  the 
delicately  cut  features,  and,  to  my  eyes  at  least,  there 
was  an  added  grace  to  the  attitude  and  movements  of 
the  small  figure.  It  seemed  as  though  the  woman  in 
her  had  suddenly  bloomed  into  the  strength  that  the 
girl  had  only  suggested. 

At  last  a  little  smile  dimpled  the  corners  of  her 
mouth,  and  without  raising  her  eyes  she  said : 


THE   ANSWER  431 

"Don't  you  know  it's  rude  to  stare  at  one  so?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  returned  impenitently, 
"but  it's  impossible  to  help  it." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  quick  return  to  her  matter- 
of-fact  tone,  "that's  ruder  yet.  And  now  I  want  to 
know  how  much  longer  you're  going  to  keep  this 
pack  of  men  around  the  house.  They're  rather  a  re- 
sponsibility for  a  housekeeper,  and  it's  something 
like  living  in  a  public  square." 

"I'm  going  to  cut  the  force  in  half  to-morrow,  but 
the  rest  of  them  will  stay  till  Moon  Ying  is  out  of 
the  place.  I'm  taking  no  more  risks." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,"  she  said  slowly.  Then 
she  looked  up  impulsively,  and  added :  "How  good 
you  have  been  to  us !  I  don't  see  how  we  should  have 
got  through  without  you.  We  are  through,  aren't 
we  ?  I'm  hoping  you  feel  that  you  have  our  thanks, 
at  least." 

I  stepped  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand. 

"I've  asked  for  much  more  than  that,"  I  began. 
I  intended  to  say  a  good  deal  more,  but  a  diabolic 
click  in  my  throat  interfered  with  my  voice,  and  a 
whirl  of  brain  cells  tangled  my  ideas  into  such  in- 
extricable confusion  that  I  was  able  only  to  gasp 
out :  "I  want  an  answer  to  my  question.  I  want  you, 
and  I'm  going  to  have  you." 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  I  was  panic-stricken 
with  the  fear  that  she  was  going  to  run  away.  Then, 
while  I  was  struggling  to  get  my  ideas  and  my  vocal 
organs  into  subordination  that  would  make  them 
of  use  in  this  emergency,  the  hereditary  instinct 


432         THE   APPLE   OF   DISCORD 

coming  from  some  ancestor  with  more  courage  than 
I — may  Heaven  bless  him  for  coming  into  the  fam- 
ily!— inspired  my  arm,  and  I  clasped  her  in  close 
embrace.  She  struggled  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
looked  up  at  me,  and,  my  ancestor's  courage  inspir- 
ing me  once  more,  I  bent  down  and  kissed  her. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  fair,"  she  whispered  in  protesting  ac- 
cent; and  I  repeated  the  offense.  "How  can  I  an- 
swer ?"  she  added.  "You  know  I  can't." 

"There's  only  one  answer,"  I  whispered  in  return, 
"and  you  might  as  well  give  it  now." 

At  this  moment  I  heard  a  gasp,  and  Mercy  Fill- 
more's  voice  exclaimed  in  consternation : 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon — I  hadn't  any  idea — " 

At  the  sound,  Laura  whirled  about  and  was  out 
of  my  clasp,  with  a  strength  and  quickness  marvelous 
and  unexpected. 

"You  may  come  in,  Mercy,"  she  said  with  an  en- 
viable self-possession,  though  her  face  bloomed  into 
a  most  admirable  variety  of  rose-colors.  "You  shall 
be  the  first  to  congratulate  us.  We — we  didn't  intend 
to  announce  it  yet — but  we  are  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried." 

Mercy  gave  her  good  wishes  most  prettily,  and 
though  I  suspected  that  she  considered  Mr.  Baldwin 
a  more  suitable  match,  she  was  kind  enough  not  to 
give  any  hint  of  it,  and  kissed  Laura,  and  assured 
me  that  I  had  won  the  greatest  prize  in  the  world. 


EPILOGUE 

Big  Sam  was  as  good  as  his  word.  As  soon  as 
Moon  Ying  was  pronounced  in  a  state  to  receive 
callers,  his  Chinese  merchant  abated  so  much  of  his 
dignity  as  to  pay  a  stately  visit  to  the  Kendrick 
house.  He  fell  several  points  below  the  standard  of 
eligibility  set  by  Miss  Kendrick  and  Miss  Fillmore. 
But  Moon  Ying  asserted  her  individuality  to  the 
extent  of  approving  him  with  such  earnestness  as  to 
weep  at  unfavorable  comments.  At  this  demonstra- 
tion of  affinity,  Mercy  Fillmore  promptly  surren- 
dered her  doubts.  Miss  Kendrick  went  around  with 
her  nose  tip-tilted  for  a  full  day,  but  as  Moon  Ying 
continued  to  weep,  she  finally  said : 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  couldn't  expect  to  get  any- 
thing better  out  of  Chinatown." 

This  form  of  approval  was  not  resented,  either  by 
the  enamored  merchant  or  the  fair  Moon  Ying.  So 
the  marriage  was  celebrated  in  double  form :  First, 
and  with  many  protests,  one  of  which  went  even  to 
the  length  of  a  temporary  rupture  of  the  marriage 
negotiations,  there  was  a  lawful  Christian  ceremony 
at  the  Kendrick  house.  On  this  point  the  protect- 
resses were  inexorable.  Therefore,  before  the  Rev- 
erend Doctor  Western,  appeared  Lan  Yune  Yow, 

433 


434         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

portly,  shiny,  erect,  dressed  like  a  rainbow  and  look- 
ing convinced  that  he  was  making  a  fool  of  himself ; 
and  Moon  Ying,  radiant  in  silks,  dazzling  with  pearls 
and  embroideries,  and  beaming  with  celestial  happi- 
ness; and  in  lawful  form  they  were  pronounced  man 
and  wife.  Secondly,  there  was  a  wedding  in  China- 
town, which  was  reported  to  be  the  most  magnificent 
celebration  ever  witnessed  in  the  oriental  quarter. 
We  were  not  favored  with  an  invitation  to  this  part 
of  the  marriage  ceremonies,  but  we  were  participants 
in  the  wedding-feast,  for  there  descended  on  the 
Kendrick  house  such  a  shower  of  Chinese  confec- 
tions and  nuts  and  fruits  that  it  seemed  impossible 
that  any  could  be  left  for  the  bidden  guests. 

So  Moon  Ying  went  out  of  our  lives,  and  carried 
with  her  our  lasting  gratitude  for  the  services  she 
had  unconsciously  rendered. 

Mr.  Baldwin  affected  not  to  see  me  the  next  time 
we  met,  and  then  repenting  of  his  churlishness  gave 
me  his  congratulations ;  but  he  never  called  again  at 
the  Kendrick  house,  and  presently  consoled  himself 
by  marrying  the  heiress  of  the  Bellinger  fortune. 

Wharton  Kendrick  recovered  strength  slowly,  but 
at  last  resumed  his  place  at  the  head  of  his  business. 
He  enlivened  his  convalescence  by  telling  me  how 
much  better  he  could  have  managed  certain  details 
of  our  campaign  if  he  could  have  been  in  command ; 
but  when  he  was  wholly  himself  again  he  made  more 
handsome  acknowledgments  of  his  approval — both 
verbal  and  financial — than  I  had  a  right  to  expect. 
While  he  was  still  on  his  sick-bed,  I  asked  him  if  he 


EPILOGUE  435 

would  mind  telling  me  the  origin  of  the  Bolton- 
Kendrick  feud,  now  that  it  was  all  over. 

"I'm  ashamed  to  tell  it,"  he  said.  "But  if  you  will 
have  it,  the  whole  thing  started  with  a  blackboard 
caricature  that  I  drew  of  Bolton  when  we  were  bare- 
foot boys  together  at  the  old  school-house.  He  re- 
taliated by  drawing  attention  to  a  caricature  I  had 
made  of  the  teacher,  and  I  can  feel  the  tingle  yet 
from  the  licking  I  got.  It  went  on  from  one  thing 
to  the  other,  like  a  fire  spreading  from  a  little  match, 
until  even  San  Francisco  wasn't  big  enough  to  hold 
both  of  us.  Sounds  foolish  when  you  tell  it,  doesn't 
it  ?  But  it's  been  serious  enough." 

When  the  subject  of  an  approaching  wedding  was 
broached  to  Wharton  Kendrick,  I  had  an  indistinct 
impression  that  he  thought  his  niece  could  have  done 
better.  But  as  the  date  drew  near,  I  had  no  fault  to 
find  with  his  growing  enthusiasm,  and  indeed  had 
to  enter  into  conspiracy  with  Laura  to  curb  his  ex- 
travagance. He  gave  away  the  bride  with  exemplary 
dignity,  made  a  speech  that  set  the  wedding-table  in 
a  roar,  and  as  we  drove  away,  sent  a  farewell  shoe 
after  me  with  such  unerring  aim  that  I  spent  the  first 
part  of  the  honeymoon  in  an  odor  of  arnica  and 
opodeldoc.  And  even  now  a  whiff  of  liniment  carries 
me  back  in  fancy  to  that  happy  time. 

Mercy  Fillmore  made  a  most  charming  bridesmaid 
at  our  wedding,  and  General  Wilson  was  so  loud  in 
her  praise,  and  so  frank  in  telling  what  he  would  do 
if  he  were  thirty  years  younger,  that  she  went 
through  the  evening  with  an  unwonted  color  in  her 


436         THE   APPLE    OF    DISCORD 

face..  But  a  few  months  later  she  was  married — at 
our  house,  and  with  many  misgivings  on  our  part — 
to  Parks.  But  we  were  happily  disappointed  in  our 
fears.  Whether  from  the  calming  influence  of 
Mercy,  or  the  black  eye  bestowed  upon  him  by  an 
ungrateful  constituency,  Parks  ceased  to  be  a  mili- 
tant reformer,  and  turned  his  energies  to  the  prosaic 
but  more  remunerative  business  of  selling  groceries. 
He  cut  his  hair,  and  though  on  occasion  he  delivers 
addresses  before  numberless  clubs,  in  which  he  de- 
clares that  the  remedy  for  the  evils  of  society  is  to 
be  found  in  socialism,  he  is  careful  to  insist  that  this 
panacea  is  to  be  applied  in  the  distant  future,  and  is 
not  adapted  to  present  conditions. 

It  is  a  good  many  years  since  I  married  my  wife, 
and  it  is  my  candid  opinion  that  she  is  prettier  than 
ever.  I  can  join  the  children  in  testifying  that  her 
talent  for  managing  a  family  is  unsurpassed.  Per- 
haps there  is  a  little  more  of  it  than  is  absolutely 
necessary,  but  it  is  some  time  since  I  ceased  to  offer 
that  suggestion.  As  for  me — well,  I've  grown 
stouter  than  in  the  hurrying  days  of  old;  but  Mrs. 
Hampden  affects  to  believe  that  a  portly  form  is 
highly  becoming  in  a  man,  and  I  shouldn't  think  of 
being  the  one  to  contradict  her. 


POSTSCRIPT 

The  author  offers  his  apologies  to  the  Muse  of 
History  for  a  few  liberties  that  have  been  taken  with 
chronology  in  the  tale.  Kearney's  rise  to  prominence 
followed  instead  of  preceding  the  riots  of  1877. 
Otherwise,  the  history  of  the  time,  where  touched 
on,  has  been  faithfully  followed,  and,  I  hope,  the 
spirit  of  the  self-reliant  men  who  organized  a  city 
for  its  own  defense  has  given  some  inspiration  to 
these  pages. 

The  city  of  which  the  tale  is  told  is  gone.  Such 
buildings  of  the  era  as  had  survived  the  march  of 
time  and  progress  were  swept  away  by  the  mightiest 
conflagration  of  history,  and  all  that  is  left  of  the 
old  San  Francisco  is  a  memory.  That  the  new  city 
that  springs  from  its  ashes  may  prove  as  picturesque 
as  the  old,  and  be  animated  by  the  same  spirit,  is  the 
hope  of  the  author  of  these  pages. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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FACIUTV 


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